From This Day Forward
by WolfLibre
Summary: This is a Jim Kirk/Spock slash story. After a bit of a rocky start, Jim and Spock become friends and then fall in love. Of course, they are classically clue-less while this is happening, and Uhura has to help get things moving in the right direction. Slow build and lots of romance with some drama and hurt/comfort thrown in.
1. Prologue

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own nothin', not no way, not no how.**

Chapter 1: Prologue

"… and that wraps up the repair status reports. Any other matters to discuss? No? OK, dismissed," Captain Kirk said to his command crew. The _Enterprise_ was still en route to Earth, limping back after the attack on the _Narada_. As Chekov, Uhura, Scotty, McCoy, Sulu, Giotto, and Spock got up and headed for the door of the Ready Room, Jim said, "Mr. Spock, please stay a moment. There's something I want to discuss with you. Mr. Sulu, you have the conn."

His first officer's carefully neutral face seemed to close in, becoming, if possible, even more of a blank. Despite their successful incursion into the _Narada_, they were struggling to work together. They had very different styles and disagreed sharply on numerous points. The last time it had happened, Spock had actually been in the wrong, and now things were _tense_ between them, to put it mildly. Jim thought he knew the source of some—maybe _most_ –of their difficulties, at least on his own side, and he decided it was time to try clearing the air.

"Have a seat, Mr. Spock."

"Captain, if this is going to be a reprimand, I would prefer to stand."

Jim looked at him in surprise. "A reprimand? Uh, no. You haven't done anything to warrant a reprimand. I know we've disagreed sometimes, and sometimes pretty vehemently, but it's your _job_ to tell me when you think I'm wrong. And anyway, this isn't about what happened yesterday. No, this is about something else. Please sit down, Mr. Spock."

Spock sat down several seats away from the captain and waited … and waited while Jim began to look more and more uncomfortable. Fixing him with a dark gaze, he finally prompted, "Captain…"

"Sorry, Commander, this is turning out to be harder than I thought." He took a deep breath and closed his eyes briefly before looking back at Spock and saying, "OK, here goes: I want to apologize for all those awful things I said to you on the bridge during the, uh, the _Narada_ incident, particularly for what I said just before you hit me. I knew I had to provoke the strongest emotional reaction from you that I could, so I picked the _worst possible_ thing I could have said to you at that very moment. But I need for you know that I, uh…," he paused and looked down at the table briefly before bringing his gaze back to Spock's. "I felt like the biggest asshole _ever_ saying those things, because even then, I _knew_ not a word of any of it was true."

Spock's eyes widened marginally, and he gave Jim a probing look. "How, may I ask, could you possibly have known that?"

_Oh, shit, can't tell him how I _really _know, _Jim thought. But then he remembered why he hadn't truly been all that surprised at the elder Spock's revelations of the depth of feeling that Vulcans could, and did, actually experience. He looked directly into Spock's eyes and said, very gently, "Spock, I saw your face when you realized that your mother had been lost, and…," he paused and cleared his throat before continuing, "and I, uh…I had to look away."

Spock's expression froze, and the hand he'd been resting on the table clenched into a white-knuckled fist. Breathing heavily, he momentarily looked towards the black sweep of the cosmos outside the windows. When he looked back, Jim was staring resolutely at the table, giving him space to regain his composure. Surprised by the sensitivity of the gesture, he tucked it into the back of his mind to be examined in more detail at another time. He willed himself to be calm; his breathing returned to normal, and he relaxed marginally and uncurled his fist. After a moment he said, "Thank you, Captain, for allowing me that moment."

As Jim looked up at him, Spock continued, "However, this may be an opportune time to stop you."

"What? Why, Spock?"

Spock again noted the friendlier, less formal use of his name, but none-the-less he continued with what he had intended to say. Finding himself unable to quite meet Jim's eyes, he dropped his gaze before saying in a low voice, "Because I cannot accept your apology."

Tension had built around his first officer's eyes again, and his mouth had set into a hard line. Jim thought briefly that he had made Spock angry again by attempting to apologize, and he came very close to spitting back, "Oh, yeah? Well, fuck you, then!" But he suddenly realized that Spock really didn't look _angry_—no, he somehow looked _miserable_, despite the generally set mask of his face. Getting up, Jim closed the distance between them and sat down in the chair right next to Spock's. He asked quietly, "Why not, Spock?"

His first officer answered him almost desolately, "Because I cannot apologize to you in return." He paused and swallowed before he went on, "There is no apology I could offer you that could possibly be adequate for what I did." His emotions were very close to the surface now; he turned an agonized gaze on Jim, and said in a near whisper, his voice almost breaking, "I almost _killed_ you, Captain. When I logically contemplate the nearly inevitable course of events had I succeeded…," he trailed off and closed his eyes.

Jim said, "But that didn't happen." He paused a moment to let that sink in; he waited until Spock looked at him again and then said, "Look, who do you think is worse? The guy who tried to choke the asshole who said the absolute worst, most hateful thing he could possibly think of, at the worst possible time, or the asshole who said it? I know which one's worse in _my_ book, and it's _not_ the first guy."

Spock continued looking at him bleakly, and unthinkingly, Jim laid a hand on his forearm. He felt an immediate tightening of the muscles beneath his fingers and quickly retracted his hand, saying, "_Shit_! I'm sorry, Spock. I forget sometimes—it's tough to override what millions of years of primate evolution are telling me to do. "

He took a breath and after a moment went back to the topic at hand. "Spock, I think you're underestimating the human capacity for forgiveness. Really, all you have to do is just say you're sorry; that's it, just two words: 'I'm sorry', or I guess in _your_ case, three words: 'I am sorry'," he said in a slight attempt at humor to break the strained atmosphere.

Some of the tension eased around Spock's eyes, but he remained silent, regarding Jim solemnly. Unable to quite stop himself, Jim reached toward Spock again, only halting his hand at the last moment before contact. He exclaimed, "_Shit_! I almost did it again! Bad, Jim!" He paused and then said, "Uh…look, can uh…, can we start over? Maybe I if I sit on my hands or something…."

At that he thought he saw one corner of Spock's mouth tip up very slightly. The half-Vulcan finally broke his silence. "That will not be necessary, Captain. I now realize that Vulcan and human needs must both be taken into account. I am well aware that humans use touch to convey reassurance and establish connection, and I further recognize that it would be beneficial for you to be able to do so now. You therefore have my permission to touch me, as you seem rather inclined to do, while we continue our…conversation."

Jim felt some of the roiling tightness inside him lessen, and he gave the man in front of him a kind of half-smile. He scooted his chair a bit closer to Spock's and then placed a hand very gently on his back, his eyes never leaving his first officer's. The muscles under his fingers stayed rigid, but they didn't become any more so, and the half-Vulcan's breathing remained deep and steady. Jim had begun to think that some of Spock's personal difficulties would be ameliorated if he would allow his human side to come through more. He wondered,_ Is this a bit of progress? Not the time to think about it, _before taking a deep breath and saying, "Alright then. Spock, I am profoundly, deeply sorry for what I said. It's asking a lot, I know, but please, can you forgive me?"

"I can and do forgive you, Captain," Spock said quietly. He closed his eyes and looked down a moment before looking up to lock his gaze onto Jim's. He then said, "I am sorry as well, Jim, for hitting you and then trying to strangle you. Will you forgive me?"

Inordinately pleased at the unexpected use of his first name, Jim smiled broadly and replied, "Of course I forgive you, Spock." He patted his first officer on the back a couple of times and then reached up to briefly squeeze his shoulder before breaking the contact.

He continued, "That's really all I wanted to say. Is there anything else you want to say to me?"

Spock replied, "No, Captain," but he then drew in a breath as if to continue. After a short hesitation, he said, "Actually, there is." His expression relaxed a bit and his gaze warmed slightly as he said, "I know it took courage for you to broach this subject, but it needed to be done, and you did it. Thank you, Captain."

Jim said simply, "You're welcome, Mr. Spock." They stood at the same time. "Are you OK? Do you need some time before returning to the bridge?"

Again that unexpected sensitivity from his captain that he would have to consider later. Spock said, "I thank you, Captain, but that will not be necessary." Jim nodded, and they headed to the exit.

The door to the Ready Room swooshed open, and Uhura looked over at them as they walked out side by side—Jim smiling slightly, Spock his normal neutral self—and gave an internal sigh of relief. Things had been getting progressively rockier between them over the days of their journey home. They had both looked quite tense when Jim had asked Spock to stay behind after the meeting, and she had been worried about what might happen. But she now noted that they both somehow looked, well, _lighter_—it was the best word she could think of to describe the change in their demeanor—and she reflected that maybe, just maybe, they would be able to make this work. She suspected there would still be rough moments, and disagreements and misunderstandings, but for now at least there no longer seemed a danger that one of them (Spock, most likely) would simply snap. She sent out a silent "Thank you!" to the universe in general for this unexpected break and then turned back to her console with a smile as the captain and commander resumed their accustomed places on the bridge.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

This story is dedicated to my beloved husband: my Beta reader, my guide, my light, my all. I could not do this without his loving support. Some of the best lines and good story ideas are his, as is a lot of the military info, but all of the mistakes are mine and mine alone.

This is my take on how Jim Kirk and Spock fall in love. It's a love story, not a sex romp, and it won't get explicit. Uhura is definitely a good guy in my story, even though she and Spock have broken up.

My James T. Kirk is a complex character. Under the bad-ass façade is a sensitive, literate man with broad cultural and artistic knowledge (largely self-acquired), eclectic tastes, and wide-ranging interests. I think he would have to be somewhat like that to capture and keep the interest of someone like Spock. Of course, he's also fun-loving, adventurous, and basically fearless: in other words, in many ways, still ten years old!

The point of view will often be from Jim's perspective, but it will frequently shift over to Spock's, too, and will occasionally go to other characters as well. I don't know how many chapters there will be. I don't have a lot of time to write, and I'm not all that speedy at it, so it's likely that I'll only update every week or so.

It may be silly to start posting a fan fiction story about the 2009 movie (which I _loved_, by the way) just a couple of days before the 2013 movie opens in the US, but there it is. Here's how it happened. I was a fan of the original series, having seen it on steam television as a teenager when it was first broadcast (OK, you do the math), and I saw several of the subsequent movies. So I was well aware of the very palpable love between Jim and Spock. But I never, _ever_ picked up on the possible homosexual aspect of their relationship, thinking of it instead as a deeply intense friendship, a bromance, as it were. Beyond that, I thought of Kirk as a skirt-chaser playboy-type who was married to his ship.

Then a few months ago I went to a party where I met a woman who told me about slash fiction—I'd never even heard of it before—and she filled me in on all the clues in TOS and the movies that point to the true nature of the relationship between Jim and Spock. She freely acknowledged that Kirk slept with lots of women (this is more than just heavily implied in TOS), but she pointed out the evidence that the person that Jim was in love with—the person _he risked his career for_—was _Spock. _ She also told me about the wonderful fan fiction story _Home_, which is about the Jim and Spock from the 2009 movie falling in love; if you haven't read it, you should—it's truly awesome! I went home and read the story over the next several days (it's a long one, and I should warn you, the author never finished it, but it's far enough along that you can tell where it's going to go), and I found myself absolutely intrigued by the thought of this relationship. I started thinking about how _I_ would spin this yarn, and before I knew it, this story was starting to swirl around in my head, and I don't think my brain is going to shut up about it until I write it all down. So I'm going to do that, and if I'm lucky, a few people will read it.

So anyway, stay tuned for love, romance, adventure, friendship, drama, humor, hurt/comfort, science, the arts, politics, and religion—in other words, something for everyone!


	2. To Begin

**Author's Note**:

Author's Note: I updated this chapter to revise the time line for their journey to Andor—I had to insert a couple of places to account for the evolving story line—so the only change here is to the first paragraph. I'm about to post my Chapter 3, too. Stay tuned!

* * *

Chapter 2: To Begin

All the repairs from the fight with the _Narada_ had been completed, and the _Enterprise _was finally back in space. Starfleet was busily constructing new ships to replace the ones that had been destroyed, but they were in desperate need of people to crew them. So the _Enterprise_ and two other smaller vessels, the _Shoemaker_ and the _Levy_, were making the rounds of human colony worlds and the planets of their Federation allies to re-establish contact and inspire new recruits to sign up. The efforts were going well. They had just left a colony world called Red Rock, after the predominant color of the surface formations in the habitable parts of the planet, where 20 people ranging in age from 17 to 55 had signed up, and they were now en route to Arcadia, another colony world. After that, they were headed for Star Base 7, then the colony world of Mori, and after that, a brief stop at the commune planet of Haight-Ashbury before they were due at Andor. In between their stops, they would be doing planetary surveys.

It was flu season on the part of Andor where the main population centers were, and crew members were all supposed to get a booster against Andorian flu if they hadn't had one (or the flu itself) in the previous three years. They were still a few weeks away from Andor, but the injections took some time to convey full immunity, so the crew was getting them now.

"Booonnnes! I'm sooo _booored_! How much longer to do I have to stay here?" Captain Kirk whined to Dr. McCoy.

"Jim, you can leave just as soon as I'm sure that flu booster isn't going to have some minor effect on you, like, oh say, make you quit _breathing _or something," Bones answered his friend. The doctor handed him a PADD and said, "Here, read this article on the latest amazing amber find. There's also one on some more of those dinosaur fossils with actual intact _pigments_ in their feathers being dug up from that limestone bed in China. Those ought to keep you occupied."

Jim considered just getting up from his chair and bolting for the door, but instead he sighed, took the PADD, and began reading. These were things he was genuinely interested in—he'd never lost his childhood fascination with dinosaurs, fossils, and the like—and besides, he didn't want Bones to kill him a second time if he walked out and dropped dead after leaving against medical advice. He looked up as the door swooshed and Lieutenant Uhura walked in. Bones asked, "Here for your flu booster?"

She grimaced, "Yes,"—Andorian flu boosters weren't anyone's idea of fun—and then nodded at Jim, "Hello, Captain."

"Hey, Lieutenant."

"Interesting reading?"

"Uh, yeah, actually." He held out the PADD to her so she could see a close-up of a large and amazingly knobby beetle on a bed of moss, locked together forever in their amber tomb.

She took it and gave the image an appreciative once over before saying, "Very nice," and handing it back to him.

"It's a good thing I love this shit. I'm stuck here waiting to see if I get an allergic reaction to the vaccine—someday I'm going to get that regulation about the CMO trumping the captain changed!"

"Oh yeah, Jim, good luck with that!" quipped Bones. "The fact that you want to rescind it is proof of why it's needed in the first place…"

At that moment, one of the new nurses, Christine Chapel, called Uhura back for her booster, and she left the two men to their friendly argument. When she came out, Bones was saying, "OK, Jim, that's long enough; if you were going to keel over, you would have done it by now. You can go—just be sure to come back right away if you start feeling light-headed or anything."

"Thanks, Bones!"

Uhura watched as Jim got up and started for the door. She had been thinking of tackling a tough subject with him, but until this moment, the right opportunity had not presented itself. She thought, _Sick Bay is really quiet, and I can count on Dr. McCoy to keep his mouth shut_. Realizing that she would probably never have a better chance to collar Jim without a number of her shipmates being aware of it—a starship could be remarkably like a small town where everyone knows everybody and their business—she suddenly said, "Captain, could I, uh, talk to you about something?"

He turned to look at her. She and Spock had broken up a few weeks previously—amicably as far as he could tell—but he had not approached her, possibly because when it happened, he'd already been in the process of trying (so far unsuccessfully) to be Spock's friend, and it just hadn't felt right to try taking up with her at the same time. _Hmmm_, he wondered, _Is this going to be a come-on? _Only one way to find out. "Sure, Lieutenant. Where to?"

"Well, I wondered if we could just stay here, maybe use Dr. McCoy's office?"

OK, so not a come-on, unless she was one of those people who was turned on by the scent of antiseptic cleansers, and if she was, he didn't think he wanted to know. Bones grumbled, "Oh sure, knock yourselves out. What do I need an office for anyway?"

Jim asked, "So that's a 'yes'?"

Bones waved them toward the small cluttered room. "Yeah, I suppose. Just don't break anything—and Lieutenant, that's really aimed at Jim, not you."

Jim said, "Jeez, you're never going to let me forget that I broke that model eyeball of yours when we were at the Academy, are you? I said I was sorry and I replaced it and everything!"

"Anyone, _any_one but you, Jim, would have known it would break if you tried to bounce it like a ball!" Bones said in a slightly raised tone of voice.

"Hey, it must have been cracked already," Jim shot back. "It shouldn't have broken _that_ easily!"

"Oh sure, blame the poor eyeball! It couldn't possibly have anything to do with the fact that you're still basically ten years old!"

Uhura smiled and shook her head in fond exasperation. "You're never going to completely grow up, are you?"

"Nope, not if I can possibly help it," Jim replied, looking completely unrepentant.

"Jim, I'm not sure that's the answer a _starship captain_ should be giving to that question," Bones objected.

"Oh, you're just jealous because I have a more highly developed sense of fun than you do!"

Bones snorted and said, "Gee, is that 'highly developed' spelled 'j-u-v-e-n-i-l-e'?"

Neatly proving the doctor's point, Jim stuck his tongue out at Bones then turned to Uhura with a lopsided grin and ushered her into the office. He closed the door and gestured for her to take the chair in front of the desk, carefully moving a stack of data PADDs from another one for himself.

"OK, Lieutenant. What's this all about?"

She said, "Well, first, I'd like this to be off the record, Captain." He nodded assent. She paused and blushed a little when she asked, unexpectedly, "And, um, would it be OK for me to call you 'Jim'?" She blushed a bit more as she said, "I guess that's kind of ironic, coming from me…"

He asked, incredulous, "_This_ is what you wanted to be 'off the record'?"

"_NO_!" Then quickly, in a more reasonable tone of voice, "No, this is just a preamble to what I want to talk to you about."

"'Jim', huh? Well, at least you had the decency to blush! Hmmm, I don't know, seeing as how _I_ have to call _you_ by your rank or your surname…"

"OK, OK, you can call me…'Ny'; yes, that would be alright—it's what my brothers call me."

The name her brothers called her—yeah, most definitely _not_ going to be a come-on. As he reflected on that a moment, he realized with an internal start that he was actually _relieved_. Was it because of his determination to get to know Spock? Best put that question aside for another time.

"OK, _Ny_, 'Jim' it is. But why, all of a sudden, do you want to call me by my first name?"

"Because I want to talk to you about Spock," she said, as if that in itself should be explanation enough.

He stared at her. He hadn't known what to expect but that certainly wouldn't have been his first guess. After a moment, he collected himself and said, "I'm not sure I see the connection, but go ahead."

"Well, see, I don't want to talk to you as his commanding officer but rather as, potentially, his friend; that's why. And Jim, I already know you're trying to be his friend…," she said and then paused.

He narrowed his eyes slightly as he looked at her. "Why do I think I hear a 'but' hovering at the end of that sentence? You're not going to tell me there's something wrong with that, are you?"

"No!" she hastened to say, "No, not at all. I think it's great that you're making such an effort, Jim."

"But—"

She looked back at him earnestly. "Well, there is a 'but', although it's not what you think. I've seen this happen before, with people trying to be his friend. He's not an easy nut to crack, and usually after a few weeks, most people get tired of not making any headway and they give up. It happened several times at the Academy. And so far, the only person on the ship who's even been _trying_ to get to know him is you." She paused for a moment and then amended, "Well, I know he and Doctor McCoy sometimes end up at the same table at meals—well, you know that, you've seen them, too," Jim nodded and she continued, "And maybe, if you and he become friends, they will, too, eventually. But right now they're kind of…well, stuck in a holding pattern where it looks to me like they just want to bug each other, and that's not exactly the same thing as a real friendship." She shook her head and said, "Sorry for the digression. I was just trying to think if there was anyone else who could help, too." She paused again briefly before saying, "But anyway, you're now at about the point where most people would stop trying. So I'm just asking you to please not give up on him. He really, really needs a friend right now."

"But, Ny, aren't you guys still friends? It's seemed to me like your breakup was pretty amicable."

"It was, and we are. But he was the one who initiated the breakup. And even though he knows that I would have done it myself before too much longer, because it _was_ him, he's not comfortable being around me much now when we're off duty."

"Not that it's really any of my business, but could I ask what happened?"

Uhura sighed. "It was a number of things, I guess. We kept misunderstanding each other, for one—ironic for the Communications Officer, huh—and I don't know…we just didn't 'click' or something." She considered a moment longer and then shook her head, "Sorry, that's the best I can do."

"OK, not sure that will help me make any headway with him, but at least it's satisfied my curiosity." Jim was silent for a beat and then asked, "Do you have any suggestions for me? I've tried to get him to do a bunch of different things with me, and so far, he's turned me down flat without fail. I've suggested athletic stuff like racket ball and tennis, intellectual pursuits like playing chess, and so far, nada."

"Jim, all I can suggest is that you just keep throwing stuff at the wall and see if anything will stick."

He thought about the expression for a moment and then said, "Yeah, he is kind of like a wall sometimes." He shook his head as he smiled ruefully, "But, I'll keep trying. And Ny, I want you to know that I wasn't going to give up on him, at least not anytime soon. I can be obnoxiously persistent when I want to be, you know."

She laughed at that and said, "Yes, I suspected as much. Thanks, Jim; that's all what I wanted to hear."

"Anything else you need to talk about?"

"No, I think that's about it. Thanks for listening, and for anything you think you can do."

"Hey, you're welcome; gives me additional incentive not to give up. By the way, I'm guessing this is confidential?"

"No, Jim, I want you to go blab it to the whole ship; that's why I snagged you here in Sick Bay! No, seriously, it is confidential, but I guess you can tell Dr. McCoy if you want to. He's probably going crazy trying to figure out what we're talking about in here. And that way, if he ever hears you call me 'Ny', he won't die of shock."

Jim laughed as he restored the pile of PADDs to their original spot, and they moved toward the door.

Bones looked up from a medical report as they exited his office and said, "Well, it couldn't have been _too _bad, whatever it was, since you're both smiling now."

"That is wasn't, Bones, that it wasn't. You off now, Lieutenant?" Jim asked, smoothly going back to official form of address.

Uhura nodded and said, "Thanks again, Captain," before heading out the door.

Bones motioned Jim back into his office and shut the door. "Anything you can tell about what you guys talked about?"

Jim related the gist of their conversation to the doctor. McCoy sat for a moment chewing over what he'd just heard and then said, "So you get to call her 'Ny' now; that's something, at least, I guess." He was quiet for a beat. "Well, I knew you were trying to befriend Spock, which I always thought was a little nuts, especially since he doesn't seem to want it. But let me just sum up what _really_ doesn't make sense to me: the woman you've had a crush on for _years_ is finally available, but instead of pursuing something with _her_, you're _still_ doggedly trying to strike up a friendship with her _ex_, who's not even giving you any encouragement, because…why? Are you out of your mind, Jim?"

Jim shrugged. "Maybe I am, Bones, but just now, it feels like the right thing to do. See, I feel this kind of connection with him, probably from…" he stopped abruptly, remembering that the elder Spock and the mind meld were things he hadn't shared with his best friend. True, the elder Spock had only said that he couldn't tell the _Spock_ of this time line, not that he couldn't tell anyone else, but he figured the fewer people who knew about such potentially universe-ending complexities, the better.

Bones looked at him curiously and prompted, "… from …"

Jim finished rather lamely, "…from our, uh, adventure on the _Narada_."

Bones narrowed his eyes at Jim and said, "I'd bet just about anything that you were originally gonna say something else; spill it, mister."

Jim pasted as innocent a look on his face as he could manage and replied, "No, really, that's what I was going to say all along. I just got distracted for a minute."

"Yeah, right." Bones sighed. "OK, keep your secrets. Go on then; get out of here and hie thee back to the bridge. I've got work to do."

Jim grinned and said, "Later," as he waved and walked out the door.

Over the next two weeks, Jim tried throwing out table tennis, curling, darts, and squash among others, all to no avail. He even brought up ballroom dancing, which, surprisingly, had given Spock the most pause for thought before he answered shortly, "No." (Well, when Jim reflected on it, maybe that wasn't really such a surprise: Spock had probably been wondering if he should verbally question his captain's sanity before simply declining the offer.) He was starting to think getting Spock to open up to him was going to be a lost cause, but he wasn't quite ready to admit defeat. The _Enterprise_ had gone on to the next stop on the diplomatic-and-contact-missions roster, and they were now in orbit around Arcadia. They were all due some shore leave while they were here, and he was idly looking over a list of cultural and entertainment events that were going on far below them when his eye fell on the announcement for a travelling exhibit that he thought might be different and interesting enough to tempt Spock to come with him. He decided it was worth a try.

First Watch now being off duty, Jim headed for the mess hall where the computer told him Spock would be. The commander was sitting at a table with Bones, and as usual when they were in the same room, they were arguing. Spock would say they were "discussing", but they were, in fact, arguing. He stopped to listen to them, clearly having come in towards the end of a longer exchange.

"I swear, Spock, sometimes I wonder about you. How you can believe such a thing when the facts—the _facts_, man—point elsewhere … "

"I assure you, Doctor, you are incorrect," Spock was saying.

"Oh, yeah? Care to put wager on that?" Bones looked at Spock through narrowed eyes.

"Doctor, it would be most unfair of me to do so."

"Oh, yeah?" Bones asked again. "Why's that?"

"You are espousing a position no sane man would hold. I therefore must conclude that you are suffering from some—temporary—unbalance, and it would be wrong of me to take advantage of you in this situation. "

Jim's jaw dropped. The way Spock had put a pause on each side of "temporary"—hinting that the unbalanced state was anything _but_ temporary, perhaps?—and something about the way he said his little piece made Jim think that he actually _was_ ribbingthe good doctor. Frankly, he had wondered if this were the case while watching some of their previous interactions. He considered the two men before him and thought about what Uhura had said about them. Like her, he wouldn't classify them as friends, exactly, but they certainly weren't enemies, despite the fact that they frequently (make that almost always) disagreed when they were together. But none of it was overtly hostile, and as he thought about it, it seemed to him more probable that she was right and that they just liked riling each other. Neither of them would ever admit that, of course, but Jim was pretty sure this was right. (In part, it was this belief that Spock was deriving actual _enjoyment_ from his interactions with the doctor that had kept Jim going in his quest to get his first officer to open up to him.)

Bones spluttered and retorted, "I think you're just afraid to take my bet because you suspect in what-ever-you've-got-instead-of-a-heart that I'm _right_, and _you_ don't want to risk finding out."

"That is not the case, but you are entitled to your erroneous opinion," Spock replied placidly.

Jim decided this was a good time to interrupt. "Doesn't sound like you're going to settle this anytime soon. Not to change the subject," and then doing exactly that, he asked, "You guys know there's a really spectacular exhibit of amber from Earth and five other planets with similar pasts, including this one, at one of the museums here? Either of you interested? Might be a great opportunity to observe convergent evolution."

Spock looked immediately intrigued, as Jim thought he might be, seeing as there was nothing like the amber found on Earth and these other planets on Vulcan—the conditions there had never been suitable for the growth of huge forests. Before Spock could say anything though, Bones sniggered, "Oh yeah, nothing says 'manly' like running off to look at globs of tree sap." He shook his head. "Thanks, but I think I'll pass."

"Scoff if you want, but hey, this is vicious, _killer_ tree sap, Bones, with the victims—some as big as squirrels—_squirrels I tell you!_—still trapped inside! That spells 'manly' in my booklet."

"Yeah, I get that. I'm still going to pass, Jim."

"What about you, Spock? You interested?"

"Captain, it does indeed sound fascinating…"

"So you'll come with me?" Jim pushed.

Spock regarded him thoughtfully for a brief moment and then said simply, "Yes."

Coming as it did after a seemingly endless line of "No"s, it took Jim a minute to register that Spock had actually said "Yes." But when he did, an enormous smile lit his face, and in his excitement, he almost shouted, "Great!" Then at a more reasonable volume he said, "I'll arrange some shore leave time for us. Tomorrow just after lunch til say, early evening, good for you?" Spock inclined his head to indicate that it was. "Cool! I'll meet you in the Transporter Room at 13:30."

"Thank you, Captain. I will be there," he said while standing up from the table. "And now, if you will excuse me, I have to check on an experiment."

Jim and Bones watched him walk to the door, and then Bones said, "Well, looks like you finally got him to crack a little bit. I'm glad; it was getting painful watching you try to come up with _something_ that he'd do with you."

"Yeah, I'm glad, too. I wasn't ready to give up quite yet, but I was starting to run out of ideas. Maybe, if he has a good enough time, it won't be so hard to find the next thing he'd be willing to try."

"Jim, how will you even be able to _tell_ if he's having a good time or not? I think he'd have the same expression on his face whether he was going to a wedding or a funeral."

"Really? I think I'll be able to tell—he's not as inexpressive as you think, Bones."

McCoy replied, "If you say so. To me it always looks like he's wearing a mask, and I don't mean like the 'masks' that pretty much every human wears a lot of the time. His is more like a literal mask, if you ask me."

"Huh…" Jim mused before saying, "Well, anyway, we'll just have to agree to disagree on this one." Abruptly switching gears, he said, "I've got to go, too. See ya round, Bones."

"See ya, Jim."

As he walked out the door, Jim's stride slowed as he gave more thought to what he and Bones had just been arguing about. Was he wrong? Was he imagining it? Was Spock really not giving off all those little emotional clues he thought he saw?

Or was he, Jim, for some reason, just able to better see what was there for anyone to notice, if they just paid close enough attention? He replayed some of their recent interactions in his mind. Directly, he was sure of the answer. The changes of expression were quite subtle, but they _were_ there, he was sure of it. He saw them because he was paying attention. So that must be it, the difference between Bones and him: the close paying of attention. But before he could follow that thought to its logical conclusion, which clearly could only be an examination of just _why_ he was paying such close attention to Spock, he distracted himself with the memory of the not-quite-completed forms for his and Spock's and everyone else's shore leave. He turned around to head to the room he used as an off-duty office to finish that task, and in the process, neatly sidestepped the "why" issue for another day.


	3. Unsects in Amber

Chapter 3: Unsects in Amber

The next day, at precisely 13:30, Spock, dressed as normal in his uniform, walked into the transporter room. He half-expected Jim to be late and was surprised to see him already there, chatting about the amber exhibit with the technician. He noted that the captain was more casually dressed in jeans and a sweater, but he did not comment on it.

He said, "Captain, I apologize if I made you wait."

"No, Spock, you didn't; I was early. Ready to go?"

"Yes, Captain."

Jim gestured towards the transporter pad and they stepped up onto the pad at the same time. As the familiar gold light swirled around them, Jim said, "I think I picked a good time…" and then the light swallowed them up.

The transporter beam shimmered, solidified, and they materialized in a small room off the main lobby of the Arcadia Museum of Natural History, to Jim finishing, "… but I should warn you that there still might be school tours and shit like that."

"Thank you for alerting me, Captain."

"You're welcome; and please, it's 'Jim', when we're not on duty."

"Thank you...Jim."

Jim smiled and said, "Hey, good start! Ready to go in?"

Spock nodded, and they stepped off the museum's transporter pad into the lobby proper. A wall of the native blue stone, easily three stories tall, framed the entrance to the exhibit halls; it was carved on either side with an elaborate "Tree of Life", one representing major steps in the evolution of life on Earth and one representing Arcadia. Opposite, a full wall of windows gave out onto a terrace. An almost Earth-blue sky floated above a manicured lawn and a tame, tended garden where the last flowers were holding off winter. In the distance, forested rolling hills were ablaze with the autumn purples and golds of the native hardwoods, interspersed with spikes of the slightly odd-looking greens of this planet's pine-equivalent. They stood for a moment to take in the grand setting, admiring/trying-to-look-aloof-while-actually-admir ing it and then headed to the entrance.

It was past mid afternoon, and the place was relatively quiet. There were a few other adults in view, along with one large group of children milling around a teacher and three other adults. As the two men picked up digital pamphlets about the exhibit and moved toward the first hall, the kids suddenly broke ranks and swarmed around them, with the teacher calling behind them, "…and NO RUNNING!" Several of them yelled back, "OK!" as they slowed for half a second and then scampered off at full speed. One small boy, perhaps eight years old, was looking back at his teacher, and he ran smack into Jim. He stopped, briefly stunned, before careening off after his classmates, with a "Sorry, mister!" tossed back to Jim as he disappeared from view. The teacher shook his head and said, "Sorry about that, sir. Are you alright? I'd get him back here to apologize properly, but I'm afraid it's a lost cause."

Jim laughed, "Don't worry about it. I was that age not too long ago, and I remember what it was like to be so rambunctious."

"Thank you, sir; very understanding of you," before nodding and setting off after his charges.

Spock had watched the entire exchange in silence; he asked, "Jim, is this typical behavior for human school children in a museum?"

They started slowly walking toward the exhibits again.

"Well sure, Spock. Look, they've been sprung from their classroom on a beautiful fall afternoon, and now they're ready to burn off some energy. They get to run around and poke each other in the ribs while they look at weird but safe creepy-crawlies, and then while their teacher and the chaperones linger in the gift shop, they'll get to play tag on the lawn. What could be better?"

"But should they not then be more…controlled? Controlled and respectful?"

"Spock, they're just kids; they're not miniature versions of adults, so you can't expect them to act all respectful and controlled." Spock opened his mouth as if to say something, but Jim interjected, "And before you say it, yes, I _know_ that that is exactly how a class of Vulcan children _would_ behave, but this is pretty much how human kids act, given the chance. It's really just the way we are. I blame it on our evolutionary past, myself; childhood is _supposed_ to be all about play, and at some level we _know_ it. 'It's not my fault—evolution made me do it!'" Jim quipped.

Spock gave him a sidelong glance and after a moment said, "I think, then, that you misspoke in your earlier assertion, Jim."

"What assertion was that, Spock?"

"You stated that you 'remember' what it was like to be 'so rambunctious', but in your case, I would say it is not so much memory as current practice."

Jim's head jerked around to stare at his companion. Dark eyes regarded him gravely, but did he perhaps detect a slight gleam of amusement in their depths? Yes; yes, he did.

"Spock, are you making fun of me?" Jim asked somewhat incredulously.

"Vulcans do not 'make fun', Jim," he said evenly, but with a bland look that still somehow managed to convey that his captain was an idiot for even having to ask.

Jim turned to face him and grinned. Right, _Vulcans _might not make fun, but did that include _half-Vulcans_? He was beginning to think not. "Well, seeing as you're half human, don't forget you have that rambunctiousness in _you_, too," he said, pointing a finger at Spock's chest. "_You_ just don't know how to let it out…yet."

That earned him a raised eyebrow. At that, his grin got wider and he said, laughing, "Enough dilly-dallying in the lobby! Let's go see some BUGS!" He gestured to Spock to lead the way toward the first exhibit hall, and they set off. Jim noted that his first officer was walking with his hands behind his back, as he often did, and he wondered about it. Was it a habit he had picked up in childhood from watching someone, or was it part of a Vulcan control mechanism designed to insure that he kept his hands to himself and didn't indulge in touching various curious objects he encountered, which his human side would probably be urging him to do? Not that you could really touch anything here, seeing as it was all under glass, but still. Maybe if he got to know Spock well enough, he'd ask him about it one day.

The opening display was in a sort of ante-chamber to the exhibit proper. The walls of the room were ringed with large digital posters showing close-up enlargements of the salient characteristics of the plant and animal life of the different amber-producing planets. In the middle of the room were display cases that featured amber from the six planets all mixed together, with a huge banner floating above them asking, "WHICH WORLD?". The details in the posters were intended to help visitors sort them out, but the three-segment/six-legged body plan proved to be a popular one, so this was harder than one would initially have thought. In some cases, it was obvious that visitors were looking at alien life. But in others, the creatures trapped in the amber looked amazingly similar to their earthly counterparts, with only fairly minor differences in such details as the configuration of the mouth parts and the number of segments that made up the legs and antennae. Jim had not been exaggerating when he said it might be a great opportunity to see convergent evolution in action.

There were all colors of amber represented, from one so light it was almost clear, to lemon yellow to deep honey to a maple-syrup hue, along with various light greens and some pieces that were so dark they looked as if they were made of solidified molasses, where the inclusion could only be seen with strong back-lighting. The cases had various magnification options for close up examination of the specimens. Beside each piece of amber was a button that would illuminate the answer. For two of the planets, the answer was easy, as the basic body plans that made up the terrestrial life there were unmistakably different from anything else. But with three others, it could be difficult to tell them from the earthly versions, if one didn't look too closely. But if one _did_, then the differences sprang out, especially with whole specimens, and especially if one used the various magnification options.

Spock, naturally, didn't miss any of them, and this was true of Jim, too—as long as he bothered to really look. But at some point, he tired of that game and came up with one of his own: make Spock do that slight up-tick thing with the corner of his mouth. He took to doing things like standing in front of the case with his eyes closed, one hand held in the air over the specimen, the other on his forehead and intoning, "The Great Kirkini proclaims this ambral entity to be from…Melmphis!," so spelled because the founders of the colony, hailing as they did from that great city in Tennessee, wanted it pronounced correctly (like Chef Boiardi had done with his name, turning it into Boyardee). Luck was with him this day. He was actually right in his guess, and he was rewarded with one of those slight up-ticks. As he examined a later specimen that had a circle of ant-type creatures biting pieces out of a large tree fungus, he said in a more-Southern-than-Bones voice, "Now, ya'll kin jes' come riitch in hyar 'n set-a-spell, 'fact ya'll kin jes stay fahevah, if-en y'all wan'," and he was rewarded with another.

The comparative exhibit also had numerous examples of amber with animal hair and hair-like inclusions, as well as those with feathers and similar body coverings from other worlds. As on Earth, amber-bound animals and birds were quite rare, as the creatures themselves would be able to escape in the vast majority of cases, but their outer coverings were liable to being trapped. With the hair and near-hair, one would often need a microscope to distinguish that of one world from another. The feathers and analogs were mostly fairly similar as well, but one world had feathers that were unique. All the ones discovered so far had filaments that grew in very tight spirals from just one side of a central spine. They were apparently used for body insulation, and there was still debate over whether the animals that bore them ever developed flight, or whether they were even bird-like at all. The case also held several imaginative versions of what these animals might have looked like. Jim was lagging behind his first officer and so saw Spock unwind one arm from behind his back and reach his hand toward the one that looked like a puff ball, briefly resting his fingers on the glass before pulling his arm back behind him. It was an oh-so-human thing to do, and Jim smiled to himself at this. He decided on the spot that he was right in his supposition that Spock kept his hands behind his back in part to keep himself on the Vulcan straight and narrow.

There was also a case of botanicals from the six planets in the opening comparative exhibit. Entire leaves as well as leaf parts, needles, stems, and bark were all well represented. Examples of many kinds of seeds, especially the wind-blown-fluff type, were also plentiful. There were flowers, too, although generally, like on Earth, these tended to be tiny and rare, and Jim noted that Spock seemed especially fascinated by these.

It was even more difficult to tell the planet of origin of the botanicals than it was with the animal life. The underlying chemistry and physics of this universe drove evolutionary processes that had resulted in the same range of shapes of leaves, needles, and flowers across all of them. The colors, however, were subtly different, the result of the spectrum of light of the local star and of the planetary chemistry. The informational posters ringing the walls included charts showing the normal color spectra for plants from all six planets. Normally, with the original colors distorted by the amber, it would have been near-impossible to tell where the plants contained within had come from. But, there were buttons to push to see the plant bits without the altering effects of the amber. After trying and failing a few times to guess the right planet, Jim decided you had to be xenobotanist to be able to tell. And of course, Spock got them all right immediately after he stated as much. He mock-pouted at his first officer and said, "Hey, no fair! You can remember all that color-spectrum shit!"

This earned him another slight up-tick at one side of the half-Vulcan's mouth as he replied dryly, "And just imagine, for some unknown reason, I rather thought that was the point," but again there was that minute, betraying twinkle in his eyes. Jim responded by punching him lightly on the shoulder, just as he would have done with a human friend. The touch was very brief, and while Spock did slide his eyes sideways toward his captain, he seemed more amused than annoyed.

Soon they moved on to a larger room where each world was represented by its own set of cases. Spock was obviously fascinated, as Jim had hoped he would be, and he was subtly amused at himself when he realized how much his first officer's enjoyment was heightening his own. Had he been with another human, he would have been frequently grabbing and leaning on his companion in his enthusiasm, as the few human kids in view were doing. But, he was with a half-Vulcan, so he managed to mostly keep his hands to himself. Occasionally, he would tap Spock on the arm to direct his attention to a particularly interesting piece; this, like the light punch on the shoulder, seemed to be alright. Once, though, he forgot and leaned against his first officer in an attempt to see a specimen a little better. Spock tensed and fixed him with a dark look, but as Jim hurriedly backed up with a swift, "Sorry! Sorry!" the half Vulcan's expression softened again.

The first cases held amber from Earth, beautiful but familiar, with the usual wasps, ants, and beetles, seed fluffs and plant bits. They soon moved on to the cases featuring specimens from Arcadia, the planet they were currently on, which had amber at the lighter end of the color range, varying from almost clear to a deep lemon-yellow. Because of the soil chemistry of the planet, Arcadia amber also had the distinction of being by far the hardest variety, almost like glass. And it was one of the planets with plentiful examples of the three segment/six-legged body plan. These included creatures that were almost-ants, the major differences from Earth-bound ants being that the biting part of the mouth was made up of two ridged, chitinous plates that slide past each other like a vertical pair of garden shears , with a fringe of fine hairs that acted as guides for the food. And instead of two compound eyes, they had two clusters of many individual tiny eyes.

As with their earthly counterparts, the various species of "ants" all had a soldier class, which in addition to being larger, had three curved tusks, two projecting forward from the sides of the mouth and one curving up from under the "chin." Jim wondered how they ate until he saw an entrapped worker ant apparently feeding a soldier through what looked like a special projecting tube, death having overtaken them in the midst of this life-giving action. Arcadia also had wasp, bee, fly, and beetle equivalents that looked very like their earthly counterparts, until one looked at their shearing mouth parts and the eye clusters. There were all sizes of many-segmented critters with scores of legs like roly-polys. And there were spider-like web-spinners with twelve legs instead of eight, which ranged in size from teeny-tiny to those with leg-spans the size of saucers. Jim, and he suspected Spock, too, if he would admit it, felt his skin crawling as he looked at one large spider-analog that had been trapped along with a web full of its own bundled victims, its food store ultimately doing it no good in the future that overtook it.

The next set of cases held examples of amber from Melmphis. Like that from Arcadia, the animals trapped inside had relatively minor changes from the equivalent creatures on Earth. As they were looking at a large display of beetle-analogs—this took up two of the four cases of amber from Melmphis, with all other species crammed into the other two—Spock said almost under his breath, "An inordinate fondness for beetles, indeed!" Jim looked at him as if trying to remember something for a moment, then he brightened and asked, "Haldane?" Spock was momentarily surprised—somehow, Jim kept doing that do him—and replied, "Yes, the 20th century naturalist J. B. S. Haldane. When asked if his study of the natural world had revealed anything to him about the mind of the creator, assuming that such a being exists, he is reported to have said, 'An inordinate fondness for beetles.' The quote is possibly apocryphal, but he did write in one of his books, _What is Life? A Layman's View of Nature,_ 'The Creator would appear as endowed with a passion for stars, on the one hand, and for beetles on the other…" and he then went on to give contemporary totals for those and some other animals. These numbers of course have been revised since, but it is still true that we know of more species of beetle than any other insect."

Jim laughed, "Yeah, that's right." He paused, remembering, "Man, Janette Dobbins would've been really sorry if she'd known that!"

Spock shot him a puzzled glance, so Jim explained, "She was a girl in my 6th grade class that I had a crush on, which I showed by dropping beetles down the back of her shirt. I tried to use a different kind each time. Just think of how long I could have kept that up!"

Spock said, "Figuring from the 300,000 known species of beetles in Haldane's time, assuming one per day—it was just one? Yes? Then, one per day for five days per week, for 40 school weeks per year? Why, that works out to a mere 1,500 years—an easily attainable goal!

Jim laughed and was gratified to once again see one corner of Spock's mouth quirk up ever so slightly. So, his first officer definitely had a sense of humor. Why was he only really noticing it today, he wondered briefly before his attention was caught by another amazing piece of amber.

They progressed on to the set of cases with amber from Gibraltar, the fourth world featured. It also had close analogs of earthly forms, but it was different in another way. Trees there had apparently grown taller and larger than on any of the other planets, with vast quantities of extremely sticky sap. Its amber featured the largest "unsects" (as Jim had started thinking of them) found in the exhibit, and the digital brochure promised a truly astounding find from this planet at the end. Jim looked at a brilliantly-colored, spiky beetle-like unsect nearly the size of his open hand and thought the piece that ended the exhibit would have to be really spectacular to beat this one.

Not all life follows convergent evolution, and the inclusions in the amber on Prospect and McMurdo Sound, the last two planets, were completely different. On Prospect ,the major body plan of the native terrestrial life was a four segment, eight-legged model. Dissection had proven that the "extra" segment in the middle was an additional stomach for prolonged digestion: the plant life on the planet at that time was apparently very difficult to digest. There were many, many different types and species of these walking unsects, as well as flying versions, both with and without wing covers. The amber from this planet was also on the lighter end of the color spectrum, allowing the spectacularly iridescent colors of some of the trapped unsects to shine through in dazzling splendor. Although they had been hearing periodic shrieks, squeals, and calls of "Eeewwww" from the school kids, for a brief time a near-dead silence descended on the museum. At that moment, Jim heard a swift intake of breath from Spock—very soft, so soft that if there had been any other sound, he would have missed it—and he turned to see his first officer staring at the display, wide-eyed (meaning, his eyes were open a millimeter or two more than normal). Jim thought, _So he's not immune to that pull we have toward glittery objects_, and he smiled to himself.

McMurdo Sound, so named because of the glaciers and oceans that covered much of the planet, had yet another completely different set of unsects. The specimens had all come from the equatorial landmass , which was currently the only habitable area. The most numerous type of unsects were odd-looking creatures like elongated doughnuts, which came in a wide variety of sizes. Their bodies were joined at the "head" and "tail" ends, but there was space between the right and left halves for the rest of their length. There were two eyes at the head end, one on each half, and one eye in the back where the two halves joined. The two body parts were supported by a massive number of tiny legs that ran along both the insides and outsides of the joined halves. Some were quite large, and Jim started laughing suddenly as he was remembered, for some reason, an old holo-vid show called "Bug Bites." Spock looked at him questioningly, and he explained, "I was just imagining what it would have been like if the show 'Bug Bites' had been made on that planet."

Spock raised an eyebrow and inquired, "'Bug Bites', Jim?"

"Yeah, 'Bug Bites.' It was a show where the contestants ate increasingly large and disgusting-looking insects for prizes and sometimes credits. You could have fried these suckers up and passed 'em off as doughnuts, if it had been made here. Just put some chocolate sprinkles on 'em, and voilà," which he gleefully pronounced "Voy-la." He finished up by rubbing his stomach and saying , "Yuuummy!" Spock looked at him sideways again as one side of his mouth tipped up very slightly, and he said dryly, "You first," making Jim's smile stretch even wider.

This world also had the most unusual web-using organism. It was most similar to a slug in shape, appearance and mode of locomotion, including the slime trail on which it moved, still clearly visible in the amber. But that is where the similarities ended; it was not a future garden pest but rather a carnivore. It had a number of "nozzles" at the back end that laid out a lacy web of material that was similar to spider silk. The result was an elaborate mass of webbing that trapped it's victims and held them fast, to be consumed by the "slug" at its leisure.

Spock then said, totally unexpectedly, "I wonder which would win in a fight: the slugs of Earth or those of McMurdo Sound?"

_Wait, what? Fighting slugs?! That's like something my brother Sam would have said when we were kids! _Jim thought as he turned to stare at his first officer. He had _never_ heard the half-Vulcan say anything remotely similar to this statement. Spock immediately looked surprised at himself—a very slight widening of the eyes betrayed him—and from the way he brought an open, cupped hand half-way up his chest before whipping it back to his side, Jim had the impression the man was fighting the urge to clamp his hand over his mouth. He briefly thought about making some comment about human rambunctiousness—fighting slugs, indeed!—but he decided to answer as if it were a serious inquiry instead. "Well, I hate to bet against Earth critters, but I gotta say, I think these net-wielding dudes could take 'em." Spock shot him a grateful look and then surprised him by playing along, saying, "Frankly, I agree, so I must, regretfully, decline your wager," his eyes fairly sparkling. Jim laughed again and clapped him on the shoulder. Spock didn't withdraw at all, but instead looked back at him with _both_ corners of his mouth tipped up ever-so-slightly, confirming the captain's opinion that this kind of brief touch was "acceptable," as his first officer would no doubt put it.

It was now late afternoon on Arcadia, and they had the place largely to themselves. They had worked their way through the cases and were now at two near the end which featured the most unusual specimens from all six planets. From Earth, there was a baby mouse-like animal, in the process of being dismantled by carnivorous beetles when flowing sap had engulfed them all, as well as an intact bird's nest with a clutch of tiny speckled eggs. There was also an array of beetles with the most unusual protrusions and colors, along with a largish paper-wasps' nest featuring larva in all stages of development.

Other various spectacular finds filled the two cases and included the largest, most complete, or most unusual presentations, as in the thick mass of mating unsects found in a large slab of amber on Prospect. From Arcadia, there was the largest specimen yet found of one of the twelve-legged spider-analogs. Rippling waves, frozen now in the amber, spread out from the fist-sized body, kicked up by the creature as it tried to free itself. Jim was lingering over this when he heard a sharp intake of breath from Spock, who had moved on to the last specimen in the exhibit, which was sitting in a case by itself. Unlike the tiny sound the half-Vulcan had made earlier, this one was clearly audible, causing Jim's head to snap up in surprise.

Curious, he walked over to join Spock and saw an animal about the same size as a terrestrial squirrel, along with numerous other inclusions, trapped inside a huge globule of amber from Gibraltar; this was the piece Jim had been talking about when he was trying to get Bones to go with them. Even with the extra-sticky sap of that world, one would normally expect that an animal of this size would have been able to escape, but perhaps it had been ill or injured when it landed in the sap. To heighten its impact, the museum publicity shots for the exhibit hadn't actually included any photos of the animal, only the size and a very general description, and they had a very strictly enforced "NO PHOTOS" policy, so he still didn't know quite what to expect until he was at the case, gazing in at the specimen.

Except for the naked tail, the animal appeared to be covered with short dark fur, and it had four legs with sharp-looking claws on the feet. Jim wondered what had made Spock gasp —true, it was unusually large, but that in itself should not have disturbed his Vulcan calm—until he caught sight of the head—and saw an eerily human-looking face staring back at him. It was broad and flat, largely hairless, with forward-facing eyes topped by eyebrows of much lighter fur, a small button nose, a mouth with thin but noticeable lips, and oddly-shaped ears that lay close to the sides of the skull. The black eyes were open, eternally looking out through the pale gold of the ancient trap, their anguished expression still seeming to plead for rescue. Its mouth was open as if in a silent scream, reveling tiny sharp teeth.

The hair on the back of Jim's neck stood up as he gazed at it. He and Spock turned to look at each other at the same time. Spock's expression had tightened up minutely, which Jim was beginning to suspect betrayed strong emotion in him, and he knew his own features reflected the shock he felt at seeing that near-human face. An acknowledgment of the strange dual nature of life—eternal yet fleeting, wondrous yet cruel, all at the same time—seemed to flow between them. He felt a sudden overwhelming need to make contact with another living being. Before he could think it through, he reached toward his first officer, but his hand froze half-way as he remembered who he was with. Spock, who had seen the uncompleted gesture, looked Jim in the eyes and inclined his head very slightly. Jim wondered, _Is he giving me permission to touch him? Well, if I'm wrong, he'll definitely let me know._ He tentatively reached the rest of the way and placed his hand on the half-Vulcan's back; when Spock neither flinched nor tightened up nor withdrew in any way, he decided his assumption was correct. They stood together in silence for a time, gazing at the long-dead creature, connected by the warm touch of Jim's hand.

Soon, though, Jim removed his hand and by unspoken consent, they turned from the exhibit at the same time. Jim said, "I think that's all of the amber, Spock. Want to look at any of the other exhibits in the museum?"

"I think not, Jim. Doing so would reduce the impact of what we have just seen."

"Agreed. Want to check out the gift shop?"

Spock thought for a moment, "I suppose it could be educational to see what they have. I generally do not go into such places, but I have perhaps been too restrictive in my activities. I will accompany you."

"Well, alright then," Jim replied as he lead the way.

The gift shop had the usual assortment of glitzy books on this and past exhibits; locally-made handicrafts; models of various local and Earth animals, some already completed, some to be put together; other science-themed educational toys; plush stuffed animals representing species from all over the galaxy; clothing with pictures of the museum or featuring interesting specimens in the collection; and of course, amber, lots and lots of amber. There were pieces if all sizes; some of the smaller ones had already been made into jewelry —rings, necklaces, bracelets, earrings, tie-tacks, etc.—but some of these were unset. Among the un-set pieces were a number with tiny flower inclusions, expensive because they were much more rare than the amber with insects or other plant parts. Spock's attention was so caught by the flower pieces that he didn't notice Jim noticing him looking at them; but he soon moved on without buying anything and started browsing the small collection of books.

Jim looked briefly at the amber for sale before going through some of the toy displays; he wanted to pick up gifts for his brother's kids. By now, Spock had gone outside to wait, first telling Jim to take his time. He settled on the toys and went back to the display of amber to choose something for himself. He browsed a short while before deciding on a piece with a small snail encapsulated in clear honey-colored amber, its slime trail visible as a wiggly track within. It was pricey, but well, what the hell, why not?

He was turning away to complete his purchases when he was seized by a sudden impulse to buy one of the flowerlets for Spock, just why he couldn't say. He had no occasion in mind on which to give it to him, and he didn't even know what Spock would do with it. But the impulse was strong, so strong that he found himself moving to comply before he could think about it and change his mind. He had just asked the clerk to show him several of the larger unset flower pieces when his eye was caught by a pair of tiny droplets of the ultra-hard, almost-clear amber from Arcadia, each containing a single, perfect flower. He gasped when he saw the price—well over two month's salary, even at his pay-grade. But as he looked at them, he found himself lifting his hand to wave away the pieces the clerk had just brought out and then to point into the case, and he heard himself say abruptly, "That. I want that." When he replayed the incident in his head later, he realized that he had moved his hand and had spoken before he was fully aware that he was doing so, as if some part of him beyond his conscious mind were directing his actions.

The clerk smiled broadly and said, "Of course, sir. You know, you're the first person to think the pair was worth it. We've had ever so many people trying to get us to sell just one of them—not such a big hit to the ole credits balance—but they came as a set, and they're being sold that way."

Jim considered. He had only intended to buy one piece of amber for Spock, but now it seemed he was committed to buying two. He could give both of them to him, but that somehow seemed far too extravagant. He wasn't sure what he would do with the other piece, but he decided, what the hell, maybe he would keep one for himself; it would go nicely with his snail. And, if he did end up giving one of them to Spock, they would have matching mementos of their first outing together. True, this, with the snail, would wipe out most of what he had saved up—he was well-paid, but he kept finding ways to dispose of most of his salary—but it shouldn't matter; his need s were all taken care of on the ship, and he could simply cut back on his voluntary spending. His considerations over in a couple of seconds, Jim replied simply, "I'll take them," handed her the toys for his niece and nephew, and gave her the information to complete the transaction.

The clerk was chatting away about lucky wives as they waiting for it to go through; Jim thought idly that she must have assumed with the toys and the amber that he was married with a family. She was seriously cute, and he normally would have said no, he didn't have a wife, and the toys were for his niece and nephew, and then he would have taken the opportunity to chat her up a bit. But he was so distracted, he didn't even correct her, much less respond to her attempts at conversation. One part of him thought he had completely lost his mind , but another part was feeling a strange excitement he couldn't even begin to explain. He was trying to sort through it all when he became aware that the clerk was saying , "Sir … sir … sir." He shook his head to clear it and looked at her blankly. She was holding the small packages of amber and the toys out to him tentatively, asking, "Do you want any of these put in a nice gift box and wrapped up?"

Tuning back into this world, he said, "No, I'll just take them the way they are. Thanks."

She put his purchases in a bag and said, "Thank you, sir. Have a nice evening, " as she handed it to him.

He took the bag from her and in an effort to be more like his normal friendly self, he smiled and said, "You, too," as he turned to go find Spock. But before he left the gift shop, he extracted the packet of amber flowers from the bag and slipped it into a pocket.

His first officer was waiting for him in the lobby close to where they had stood on their arrival, looking at the landscape rolling away into the distance. A fine autumn sunset was ending the day. The sun had just dipped below the flowing hills, and the few clouds now gathered in the sky glowed in various shades of reds and golds, while the larger of the planets' two moons, a day or so away from full, was chasing the sun to the horizon. Jim stopped beside Spock to take in the sight (one of the best things about shore leave, as far as he was concerned, were _real_ , not simulated, sunsets). Spock looked over at him, nodded, and then turned back to the window. Jim smiled inwardly as he thought, _I guess admiring sunsets is something pretty much everybody does_, as they stood side by side for a few minutes in quiet contemplation. Even though they still had some time before their shore leave was up, they were both ready to go back to the ship, and they soon turned from the window as one. Spock had seen the package in Jim's hands and now asked curiously, "What did you buy, Jim?"

Jim opened the bag and showed him the toys and the amber snail. He was very glad he had thought to hide the flowerlets; he could apparently answer Spock honestly while still concealing his other purchase. Just why he wanted to keep it secret he wasn't sure, any more than he was sure why he had bought the two flowerlets in the first place. He would have to think about this later, maybe.

By mutual consent they moved then toward the museum's transporter pad. Because he was Jim and he just couldn't help himself, he reached out toward Spock again, simply wanting to make a friendly connection with the man beside him . Before he actually touched the half-Vulcan, though, he remembered that he should ask permission. He hesitated, looking at Spock questioningly. His first officer once again inclined his head in acceptance of the touch; Jim reached the rest of the way and settled his hand his companion's shoulder. Jim said then, "Spock, thanks for coming with me. I'd have gone by myself if I had to, but I'm really glad you came along" as he briefly closed his fingers over his first officer's shoulder before lifting his hand.

Spock said, "You are welcome, Jim. Thank you for asking me to accompany you."

Jim smiled broadly in response. "Hey, you're welcome, Spock. We'll have to do something like this again."

Spock considered this a moment and then surprised him a bit, but just a bit, by saying, "Indeed we will, Jim, "a quiet light in his dark, steady gaze.

Jim smiled even more broadly at him as they stepped on to the transporter pad, his mind already churning up things they might do together in the future. He hit his communicator then and said, "_Enterprise_, two to beam up," and the gold light picked them up and whisked them back to the ship.


	4. Captain's Mast

Chapter 4: Captain's Mast

**Disclaimer: I don't own nutin', not no way, not no how.**

Author's Note: there's a lot of Scotty in this one, but I didn't try to write his parts the way he would say them. You'll just have to imagine that wonderful brogue.

* * *

After they returned from their museum visit, Jim and Spock began spending more and more time together. They frequently sought each other out in the mess hall, and Jim was having good success in getting Spock to do things with him when they were off duty. He had hit upon the idea of teaching his first officer more about his human heritage by getting him to watch obscure documentaries he found by trolling though the ship's computer archives. As he put it to Spock, he thought it was high time he learned things about humans that hadn't come from the "book larnin'"—this got him a raised eyebrow—about the species he'd received during the course of his education on Vulcan. His mother, naturally, had augmented this, but his father had wanted him raised, as much as possible, as a Vulcan boy, so she had felt restricted in what she could share with him while he was growing up.

They remained in orbit above Arcadia for another week completing their recruitment efforts there, as there were several habitable continents, each with at least on large population center. During that time Jim and Spock watched several documentaries together in one of the ship's media rooms, including one on several of the various Oriental methods of producing hand-made paper—still valued arts in the 23rd century—and tonight, one on humor. The latter had presented the theory that laughter had originated as a communication tool, as a way to signal a companion or companions that an unexpected, surprising thing was not dangerous.

They were sitting in one of the ship's coffee bars, discussing the program they had just seen. Jim said, "It makes a lot of sense to me. I mean, it explains why we laugh when someone walks smack into a plate glass door, as long as they don't get hurt. It's the startle/surprise reaction—we literally can't help but laugh, it's hard-wired into us. It's conditioning, like Pavlov's dog. We started out laughing to signal that a surprising but harmless thing was, well, _harmless_. Now _anything_ surprising that doesn't hurt us makes us laugh." Spock raised an eyebrow at him, so Jim continued, "And it explains why timing is so important in comedy. It's the little pauses that set up the surprise and get the laugh." Spock continued to look skeptical, and Jim said, "Here, I'll demonstrate. If I say, 'I just celebrated my 29th birthday seven years ago,' that's not funny. It's just a statement that doesn't make any sense. But if I say "I just celebrated my 29th birthday…seven years ago,' now that's _funny_. See, the pause sets up the surprise. With the sentence starting out 'I just," we expect the birthday to have been, say, yesterday, or last week or at most, last month, but certainly not years in the past. So when we follow up that pause with 'seven years ago,' we're surprised, so we laugh."

Spock replied, "But Jim, why are you talking about a 29th birthday, especially one that occurred seven years ago?... You are currently only 25." He said it with a perfectly straight face, but his eyes twinkled with amusement.

Jim laughed and swatted him on the arm, and said, "See, that's what I mean. You chimed in as if I were actually talking about myself, not trying to make a point, and that's surprising because most people wouldn't respond that way. Plus, you put that little pause in there. _And_ I know very well that _you_ know that I _wasn't_ talking about myself, which makes it even funnier, somehow."

Spock didn't say anything for a moment, quietly basking in having just been told that he was funny. It shouldn't matter whether the captain thought he was funny—it wasn't logical to care about such things—but somehow it _did_ matter, it mattered very much. He would have to meditate about this tonight and try to sort it out. Then something that he'd meant to bring up earlier came back to him. He said, "But, Jim, rats laugh when researchers tickle them. If one artificially lowers the pitch of the noises they produce while this is happening, it sounds exactly like breathy human laughter. If laughter evolved for the purpose you assert, why then do rats laugh when they are tickled?"

Jim thought for just a moment and responded, "Maybe because they think it's funny that the researchers would be tickling them in the first place?" His reward for that was seeing both corners of Spock's mouth tip up very slightly in one of his Vulcan smiles, as Jim had begun thinking of them.

They bantered back and forth like this for a while in the coffee bar and then continued as they strolled back to their respective quarters, which were right next to each other. Tonight had been typical. After their activities together, they often found themselves gravitating to the officer's lounge or to one of the coffee bars and just sitting and talking. (Rather to Jim's surprise, he had discovered that his first officer liked coffee—even liked lattes as long as they were made with soy milk—although Spock would have said, rather, that he found coffee "acceptable.") There were no deeply personal revelations yet, however. Their conversation at this stage usually revolved around the programs they had watched together or else the ship or their common scientific interests, as well as various people they both knew in Starfleet or at the Academy.

Realizing that even this sort of sharing was a big step for his first officer, Jim was content to take it slow and let their friendship develop at its own pace. Because of the mind meld with the elder Spock, he knew what this friendship could become. He already felt a deep connection with his first officer rather out of proportion to the amount of time they had actually spent together, and he thought this was at least in part a result of the meld. But if that were _only_ from the meld, it seemed like he should feel that deep connection with the _elder_ Spock instead the one on his ship, and there was no question at all in his mind who he was feeling connected to. He thought, _Maybe besides the meld we're connected by the red thread of fate of Oriental legend, and so we're bound together in whatever future we find ourselves_, and then he laughed at himself as he remembered that the red thread was said to bind future _lovers_ together rather than people who were destined to be friends.

For his part, Spock had never in his life opened up to another person so quickly upon breaking down those initial barriers as he had with Jim, and that included Nyota. He had known her for over two years as a student in the Xenolinguistics program , and she had been working as his Research Assistant for three and a half months before he had relaxed enough around her to allow her to approach him on a personal level. And _that_ had been all her idea and had taken incredible persistence on her part. He was, as she had put it to the captain, a hard nut to crack indeed, but she had managed to do it.

It was also she who had initiated their romantic relationship. She had been his student and was still his RA at the time this happened. Even though he was no longer her instructor, their relationship was still very much against regulations. But she was so brilliant and otherwise so ethical that she neither needed or wanted any special consideration from him regarding her grades or her research, and he was so Vulcan (in some ways) that he would not have given her special consideration in any case. (The only time he ever gave her any "special consideration" was when he had belatedly assigned to her to the ship she would have been on in the first place had they _not_ be in a romantic relationship, but that was later.) So, they neatly avoided the problems the regulations were there to prevent. Still he had, admittedly, felt extremely conflicted when they began their romantic relationship, but that had not stopped him. Somehow, he had been helpless to resist when it came to the point. He had been un-bonded for some time—the fiancé his parents had chosen for him when he was seven had proven to be too incompatible as they grew older, and their bond had been dissolved by a Vulcan healer before he left for the Academy—and he had felt adrift, in need of someone to anchor and ground him on Earth. So he had allowed himself to become close to her in that way, and that, too, had taken months.

But now here he was, just days after finally agreeing to do something with Jim for the first time, beginning to learn about him and get to know him—as well as discover additional fascinating information about the more buried side of his heritage—and he was finding the experience exhilarating. To someone accustomed to friendship, what he was willing to share with Jim at this point might have seemed inconsequential, but to Spock it was a whole new world just starting to open up. He, too, understood from the elder Spock that there was something quite extraordinary awaiting the two of them further down this road, and while he was ready to start the journey, he was not in a hurry to arrive at any particular destination.

And of course, Jim continued reaching out toward Spock physically as well. Their routine of reach-pause-nod-touch continued, and so far, Spock had never refused to let himself be touched. As Jim had previously surmised, very brief contact—a tap, a swat, a light punch—without asking was alright, but for anything longer than a split second, he needed to ask permission. This he was content to do, but he hoped that at some point in their relationship, they would get past that, and Spock would allow Jim to simply touch him without asking, as he did with his human friends. Right now, that day seemed far off, but he had hope that it would eventually arrive. He also hoped that someday, his first officer would reach back, but he had less faith that this would ever happen.

Jim was sprawled comfortable in his command chair, thinking lazily of their up-coming visit to Star Base 7, where there was any number of fun and interesting things to do. They wouldn't be there long, but everything was crammed together on the base with very little travel time to get from one wonderful diversion to another. A determined person could pack in a lot of fun in a short time, and he was looking forward to it. He would have to collar Spock and figure out some things to do together on the base.

They had just left Arcadia a few hours previously, and he was anticipating an easy trip. This was a well-known area of space, with no anomalies or wormholes or anything that could cause problems, so he was relaxing when he got a call from Scotty. Everything just _felt_ like it was running so smoothly, no problems, that he was pretty sure his chief engineer's call was more or less a social one.

"Hey, Scotty! What's up? Don't tell me you're already making plans for what to do on SB7?"

"Ah, Captain, I wish that were true." He came right to the point. "Sir, I'm here with Mr. Giotto. Could we come see you in the Ready Room? You and Mr. Spock?"

Jim glanced at his first officer, a look of concern traveling between them. So, not only _not_ a social call, but likely to mean trouble. If Scotty wanted to see both of them, and with Giotto in tow, it had to be a serious issue. He replied, "Come on ahead, Mr. Scott, Mr. Giotto. Kirk out."

He turned to look at Spock and said, "Mr. Spock, you're with me. Mr. Sulu, you have the conn." He thought rather bitterly that this was almost certainly going to mean less time for fun at the star base, or maybe, no time at all.

Scotty and Giotto joined the other two men in the Ready Room a few minutes later. Scotty in particular was noticeably ill-at-ease, and Jim wondered what was going on. He didn't have to wait long as the chief engineer said, without any pre-amble, "Captain, Commander, I, uh, I think we might have a thief on board."

That got their attention. Spock said in a clipped tone, "Explain."

"I was going over the end-of-the-month logs for replicator use in Engineering, and the, uh, the numbers didn't add up. There's the tally from the replicator itself, but there's also a tally of the work orders put in. The two don't numbers don't match, and they should. The replicator says there were 130 uses during the month, but there were only 118 work orders entered. Of course, it's possible to use a replicator without having a work order—can you imagine what life would be like around here if we had to fill out a work order to get a cup of _coffee_—but that's definitely _not_ how the crew are trained to use the one in Engineering. With our specialized raw materials, we have to keep much closer track of use than on the rest of the ship, so we have the work orders. And speaking of raw materials, the level is lower than it should be. So, the only thing I can think of is that someone is using it without authorization, and they think it's safe because they don't know that those two numbers are tracked and compared."

The captain asked then, "What about the security cameras? What did they show?"

Lt. Commander Giotto spoke up. "Unfortunately, no usual activity at the replicator, sir. We found the recordings of all incidents of replicator use in the past month, since the last log check—the numbers for last month were in sync, by the way—and Mr. Scott and I both watched them. They all look perfectly normal, and the incidents of replicator use shown on the security camera recordings match the tally of work orders: 118. But then I had Ensign Bishara check the archived recordings for evidence of tampering, and it surfaced pretty quickly. A pre-recorded fixed loop has been inserted twelve different places, which is the number the two tallies are off."

Spock asked, "Might someone in Security be involved in altering the recordings?"

Giotto answered, "I don't think so, sir. I know this is going to sound like I'm just defending my own people, but I don't think _any_ of them would have done it because it's a fairly sloppy job, very easy to spot once we started looking. Seems to me like it was done by someone who thinks they know more than they really do. Either that, or they hoped we wouldn't get suspicious and look in the first place."

A puzzled look went between Jim and Spock. Jim voiced their mutual question. "OK, but doesn't hacking the security cameras take a pretty high level of skill? Why would a person who can do that do a bad job of inserting the fixed loop?"

Giotto colored slightly and said, "Ah, well about that. During the course of this investigation I uncovered a software vulnerability, doubtless from the last 'upgrade' from Starfleet, that actually made the security cameras pretty easy to hack. Our thief just had good timing; I was about to put Ensign Bishara to work correcting the software now. And don't worry that the ensign might have been involved in the theft or camera tampering. Remember, he just returned to us from that temporary assignment on the _Caroline Herschel _ where he was helping them with some specialized computer adaptations for their surveying efforts. The last fixed-loop insertion was a week ago, and he just returned to the ship yesterday."

Kirk said, "OK, good; just be sure he knows not to mention this to anyone." Giotto nodded and said, "Yes, sir." The captain considered a moment before saying, "Mr. Scott, Mr. Giotto, I want you to pull the Watch rosters for Engineering for the times covered by the altered security recordings and see if you can figure out who might be doing this. Report to Mr. Spock and me once you have a list of suspects."

"Aye, sir," they said in unison.

Spock said, "Captain, it would be prudent to set up additional, hidden security cameras in the area around the replicator in Engineering and not tie them in with the others." He turned to face the chief engineer. "Mr. Scott, am I correct in assuming that the normal sequence of events is to enter the work order at the terminal next to the replicator and then make the replicated part?"

"Aye, sir; that's correct."

"Then, I think it would be possible to have an alarm tripped if the replicator is used without there being a work order. It would require some programming, but it should be relatively easy for a person of Ensign Bishara's skill level to do."

"Good thinking, Mr. Spock. Mr. Giotto, I want you to install independent cameras, and have Ensign Bishara write the program for the alarm and also tie the alarm into the communicators of all of us in this room. Have him do that before he goes to work on the security camera software. If the alarm goes off, I want us to rendezvous in the Security Section office ASAP. And, Mr. Giotto, I know you don't think any of your other people are involved, and I'm inclined to agree with you there, but just in case, keep this information strictly between you and Ensign Bishara. "

"Aye, sir."

"Anything else?" the captain asked.

Scotty and Giotto looked at each other and shook their heads. Scotty answered for both of them. "No, Captain."

"Alright. Dismissed."

They all filed out of the Ready Room and headed for their respective areas.

The next day, the four men were again in the Ready Room. Scotty and Giotto had the report on the results of their examination of the duty rosters. There were three people who were presents at all twelve of the times there was altered security footage: Crewman 2nd Class Cynthia Voltaire (Jim's mind flashing on her saying, "No relation" when they were introduced, and he really hoped it wasn't her), Crewman 2rd Class Ishi Karakawa, and Crewman 1st Class Steve Palmer. What to do next was the big question.

Scotty said, "We could just search their quarters. If we find replicated parts that shouldn't be anywhere but Engineering, then we'll have 'em."

Spock answered, "But if the parts are hidden elsewhere, it will alert the thief but leave us no closer to catching them than we are now."

"Hmm, good point. What do you suggest, Mr. Spock?" Jim asked.

"I think we should see if the person will try again. It has occurred to me that there is a high probability the thief plans to dispose of the replicated parts while we are at Star Base 7, where we will arrive in 32 hours. There will be large numbers of crewmen taking shore leave, and it would be relatively easy to arrange a rendezvous with someone at the base. And there is constant traffic coming and going from all around this quadrant of the galaxy; the contact could be from anywhere."

Jim asked, "OK, Commander, if they try again, then what?"

"Captain, the alarm will let us know if the replicator is used without a work order, but I do not think we should apprehend the person involved at that point. I think we should let them go to their rendezvous on the base and catch both the thief and the person or persons to whom they are selling the illegal parts, if that is indeed their plan. And Mr. Giotto, I am sorry to ask you to have Ensign Bishara undo the software correction, but I think you should. If the thief is unsuccessful in hacking into the security cameras, it would alert them that we know about the theft. "

Giotto almost sighed but managed to stop himself and say, "Aye, sir; I'll put him on that as soon as I leave here."

Scotty had been sitting with an unhappy look on his face, and he now voiced an objection. "But, what if we lose them at the base? It can be pretty chaotic down there …"

Giotto replied, "We can track the person who's making the parts around the ship, once we know who it is. We can find out where they're hiding the parts and then attach tracking devices to them. Then, even if we temporarily lose the thief or his contact at the base, we can pick up the signals and find them."

The captain thought a moment and then said, "OK, let's go with that plan. I want to catch this bastard and find out what they're up to." He looked around the room. "Anything else at this point?"

There was a small chorus of "No, sir"s, and Kirk dismissed them.

Five and a half hours into Second Watch, the alarm went off. As agreed, Kirk, Spock, and Scotty all headed to the Security Section office where Giotto was staring at a monitor, looking grim. There was now no doubt that they did have a thief on board: Crewman Steve Palmer. Giotto was following his progress on the security cameras. The man stopped when he came to a section of corridor where there were several openings for maintenance access ducts. He looked around, confirmed that he was alone, and then slipped into one of them. Giotto scrambled to find the camera that would allow them to look inside and got the view switched just in time to see Palmer pull the replicated part out of a pocket, push it into a hole, and then replace the section of ducting covering it. Next, he crawled further up the duct until he came to a spot that was wide enough to allow him to turn around. He headed back down head-first, poked a small mirror out the opening, and jumped down quickly when he was sure the coast was clear. He then walked away with a nonchalant, practiced air.

The captain said, "OK, now we know who's doing this." Internally he shook his head; damn, this was hard to take, one of his crew members being a thief! He continued, "Mr. Giotto, I want you to see what all he's got in that hole, and I want you to attach tracking devices to all of it. Mr. Scott, head to Engineering and find something for Palmer to do that will keep him from going back to the duct while Mr. Giotto is bugging those parts."

Scotty objected, "Captain, I don't think we should do that; we don't want to spook him or make him suspicious. He's just finishing up his lunch period and shouldn't be leaving Engineering again until Second Watch is over, in any case."

Spock said, "Captain, I agree with Mr. Scott. We do not want to alert the crewman in any way."

"OK, I can see the sense in that; we'll take a chance that he won't want to call attention to himself by leaving his post when he doesn't have the excuse of a mealtime break." Kirk paused for a moment, thinking. "Mr. Giotto, contact the three of us when you're done with the bugs. We'll meet in the Ready Room and decide on our next steps after we know what he's got."

"Aye, Captain."

One hour later, the four men were again in conference in the Ready Room. Giotto had been able to attach the newest type of tracking device (undetectable, so far, to systems designed to find such things) to all 13 of Palmer's illegally replicated parts and, with the aid of the security recordings, had replaced them exactly where he found them. The parts themselves were an odd mix, the only connection between them being that they were in the _Enterprise_ database and wereall components of high-tech systems in use on various human colony worlds: two different parts for one model of replicator, three for another; a part for a transporter a couple of generations behind the one in current use on board the ship; three for tricorders specialized for geologic exploration; and six parts for various models of phasers. None of the parts were particularly expensive or difficult to get, if obtained legally.

Scotty said, "I don't see the point. Why would Palmer take all that risk to make _these_ things? All of them are available on the colonies legally, even the phaser parts, at least on some of them, and presumably much cheaper. Why would colonists buy replacement parts like this on the black market? "

Spock had been sitting with his brows drawn together slightly, deep in thought. He responded, "They would not, Mr. Scott." He swiveled to face Jim at the same time the captain, wide-eyed with alarm, turned to look at him. "Captain, it is my belief that we are likely dealing with one or more violations of the Prime Directive. That is your belief as well, is it not?"

Damn, the man was quick—and observant. Like Jim, his first officer had thought of the one thing that would make sense out of the mix of seemingly mundane replicated parts. And then he'd taken one look at Jim and had known exactly what he was thinking. It was kind of spooky, but kind of reassuring as well. Aloud Jim said, "Yes, unfortunately. We're making a lot of stops on this trip, so, if we're right, our man is going to meet a fence somewhere." At Spock's very slight frown, he leaned over toward his first officer and said, "A person who buys and then sells on stolen goods." Spock nodded thanks and shot Jim a tiny look of gratitude, appreciative in his own turn that the captain had known exactly what was puzzling him and then had helped him out without being asked.

Kirk went on, "It pretty much has to be someone who's supplying illegal technology to planets that are officially off-limits per the Prime Directive. It makes perfect sense, now that I think about it. If you've got an illegally-obtained replicator, you sure as hell can't get parts for it from a friendly passing starship like us or from AcmeGalactic." He mentally shook his head at himself again: a few hours ago, when Scotty first called to see him, his main concern was missing out on having fun at the star base. Now it was trying to contain the damage of a likely serious violation of the Prime Directive.

Giotto spoke up. "That makes it extra critical that we don't lose Palmer or the fence. Captain, permission to contact the head of security at SB7. It's Reiga Banerjee. She and I are old friends, we go way back. I know we can trust her and rely on her cooperation."

"Do it. Just be sure to let her know this is only our best guess as to what's going down. We may be wrong, he may be planning on doing something totally different, but my gut tells me this is the place." He paused for a moment. "On second thought, I want to be in on that call; let's make it from here when we're done with this briefing. If we're right, I want Starfleet to take the people involved into custody, even though the hand-off of the stolen parts would occur on the base. I don't want any wrangling over jurisdiction if we get to that point."

"Aye, sir."

"I think he's turned in a shore leave request." Kirk turned to access the computer. "Let's see, here it is: 19:00 the day before our departure. He's requested an overnight stay, so it would be reasonable for him to be taking some luggage as a cover. Mr. Giotto, when we're done here, I want you to get together your best people to follow Palmer on the base." He paused a moment looking slightly uncomfortable before he said, "This may be going overboard on the paranoia front, but I don't want you to tell them any more than the bare minimum they need to know before the operation starts."

Giotto started to bristle, so the captain spread his hands and said, "I know that makes it sound like I don't trust the people you would hand-pick for this mission, but it's critical that we get this right. Look at it this way, if something _does_ go wrong, if he's alerted in some way that we're on to him, you can rest assured that it _wasn't_ any of your crew."

Giotto retreated and he said, "Yes, sir. I can see your point, even if I don't like it."

Kirk continued, "Take them down ahead of time, whenever it is that you need to meet with Officer Banerjee and her people, and be prepared to follow him. He might not be making the drop immediately, but my guess is he's going to do it sooner rather than later. Oh, and I want him tracked on the security cameras from the moment he gets up that day until he steps onto the transporter platform."

"Aye, sir," the security chief said once more.

The captain looked at the other two men. "Mr. Spock, Mr. Scott, anything else to consider now?"

"No, sir," they said at the same time.

"Alright, you two are dismissed. Mr. Giotto, let's make that call."

There was nothing more for Spock to do on this operation until Palmer left for the star base, and then he would just be monitoring the progress of the security operation on the ship with the captain. As he left the Ready Room by way of the bridge, Lt. Uhura stopped him. She wasn't normally on duty during Second Watch, but she was today as a favor to a friend in Communications. She said, "Mr. Spock, I've just received an urgent call from Star Base 7. They need someone to act as a translator for a group of X'Chi!di refugees. Their language is one of the ones that the Universal Translator just makes a hash of, and the only person in their group who knows Standard well—the one who was acting as the translator for them all-has died unexpectedly. A couple of the others speak a few words of Standard, but not enough to really help. The base Migrant and Refugee Settlement Office called us hoping we might have someone on board who speaks their language or at least someone who could tweak the translator."

Spock asked, "And do we, Lt. Uhura, have such a person on board?" fully expecting the answer to be "yes" and further, somehow knowing that he was looking at that person right now.

She didn't disappoint. Flushing slightly, because _she_ somehow knew that _he_ already realized the answer, she said, "Yes…and yes, that would be me," answering his second, unvoiced question.

"Lieutenant, that is a highly obscure, and as I remember, an extremely difficult language as well. I do not recall seeing it listed on your academic transcript."

"No, sir. I, uh, kind of learned it for fun." She really blushed now, thinking, _Well, if everybody within ear shot didn't already know I'm a hopeless geek when it comes languages, they sure know now_." Spock raised an eyebrow at her, and she explained. "A friend of mine in the Xenolinguistics program at the Academy and I learned it together our first summer there; we just came up with the idea on our own as something to keep up our skills and challenge us. It was fun, but I never, _ever_ thought that I'd have a chance to speak it for real. Anyway, the refugees are apparently overwhelmed by the environment of the base, and they've holed up inside the Settlement Office. They need someone to help them navigate officialdom, get the permits they need for heading on to the colony world they're bound for, and just generally to help them for a while. A person on their colony world who speaks Standard well is headed to the base to help them, but it will be about five days before they get there."

"And you want permission to assist the refugees."

"Yes, sir."

"The captain will make the decision, Lieutenant, but I will recommend that permission be granted. It fits in with the humanitarian aspect of our mission."

"Thank you, sir!"

Spock replied, "Either the captain or I will inform you of the decision." He then nodded to her and was about to leave the bridge when the captain came out of the Ready Room, detailed preparations for the operation on the base having been left to Giotto after the jurisdiction issue had been settled with the base officials. Jim agreed immediately to Uhura's request, as Spock thought he would. (It was nice to think that they could actually help some people, not just worry that they might be harboring a person who was apparently bent on damaging everything Starfleet and the Federation stood for.) She would be transported to the base as soon as they arrived and would remain with the refugees until the new translator from their colony arrived. After that, she would rejoin the _Enterprise_, most likely on the _Copernicus_, which was scheduled to rendezvous with the ship in about a week.

They arrived at Star Base 7 fairly early the next morning. When it was time for Palmer's shore leave, Kirk, Spock, and Scotty gathered in the Ready Room to monitor the progress of the operation. Palmer left on schedule, and he had the bugged parts with him. When he got to the base, he checked into a hotel but soon left carrying a large satchel with the replicated parts inside. He then wondered around, apparently aimlessly, for almost two hours. In the closed environment of the base, it would have been easy for him to spot the security personnel following him, had they not taken advantage of the cameras tracking his every move. As it was, they stayed far enough behind him to be out of sight, but still close enough to move quickly into position when needed.

Giotto reported that they were beginning to think he might have lost his nerve when he suddenly ducked through a door that opened on a stairway leading down to the base's lower maintenance corridors. It was a regular hinged door, not a sliding one with a sensor to make it open. There was no handle on the outside, so it had apparently been propped open slightly from the inside. Here the security people following him had a bit of luck: he didn't bother to close it, which would have locked them out, but they were able to catch up and slip in quietly behind him. On the way down, he stopped twice, trying to determine if he were being followed, but Giotto's and Banerjee's people were pros, and he kept going, thinking he was safe.

He led them to a cavernous room in a part of the base that was apparently rarely entered. There were no people about, dust was thick on surfaces, and per the report that Giotto filed later, the place had a disused, musty odor (yes, even in space, there is dust and must). Palmer had been there for perhaps ten minutes, the security people well concealed in the shadows, when a Ferengi skulked into view. Cameras rolling, they recorded the whole transaction as Palmer handed over the satchel and received a small bundle in return.

The security personnel swooped in as the two parted to go their separate ways. Palmer surrendered immediately, looking completely terrified, but the Ferengi tried to run. After a short chase through the lower corridors, Giotto literally tackled him when it looked like he was going to slip through an opening that would have been too small for his pursuers to follow. The man wailed and cried and threatened to contact his government about this outrage—he, a legitimate Ferengi business man, hassled by Starfleet and the base personnel! Giotto growled at him and told him to save it for the judge as he pulled the satchel open to video its contents and record the signals being given off from the tracking devices on the parts as proof of their stolen nature. The man subsided into whimpering as he was hauled back to rejoin Palmer and the rest of the security personnel. As agreed, both prisoners were transported to the _Enterprise_ after official processing on the base.

The excitement of the chase over, and with the best resolution they could have hoped for, Jim reflected that he should be feeling, if not elation (couldn't really feel that, not with a suspected Prime Directive violation to be investigated), at least a bit more relief. He _was_ feeling somewhat relieved—the operation could have gone disastrously, but it hadn't, it had gone well—but he was also feeling a growing sense of dread. When he tried to analyze why, he thought it was probably because of what he feared that they would find during the investigation of Palmer's crime. Palmer had been one of the survivors of the encounter with the _Narada_ and had been promoted to Crewman 1st Class before they left Earth on their current voyage. He had been in a position to operate the replicator without supervision for the entire trip, but as this was the first time the log numbers hadn't matched, it seemed likely that he'd only started making parts recently. Still, Scotty was double-checking all the replicator logs, and Giotto's people were combing through security recordings and reports of petty thefts. So far, they hadn't come up with anything else incriminating, but they kept looking. The _Enterprise _had already made numerous stops, included one at Star Base 4, and it was possible Palmer had been selling stolen items the whole time.

So, yes, there was the dread of what they might find, but if he honest with himself, Jim had to admit that some of that feeling was because of the position he now found himself in. As furious as he was at Palmer, he was not at all looking forward to the Captain's Mast proceeding. First he would conduct an inquiry where he would review the results of the investigation, and this would be hard because of what those results would possibly reveal. Then he would preside over a hearing—in the days of sailing ships, held in front of the mast, hence the name—and the accused would have a chance to speak, and this would be hard because he was so enraged at the man that it would be difficult to be in the same room with him. Then he would have the option of dismissing the charges (_Not a chance_), imposing such punishment as he was able under the provisions of military law (_Nope, this was way too serious a crime for that_), or referring him for court-martial (_Bingo_!). And this would be hard, too, because even though he felt Palmer deserved whatever was coming to him, and the result was really a foregone conclusion, he was feeling extremely uneasy about it all. For the first time in his life, he would be on the other side of the bench, as it were, and he was not at all sure about his suitability to sit in judgment on a fellow human being. It didn't matter that he wasn't really sitting in judgment—that would be left to the official Starfleet court-martial—just the thought of the whole thing was making him feel sick. But there was nothing for it but to plow ahead.

The day they left orbit around Star Base 7 to survey three planets on their way to their next stop at Mori, the investigation was completed. He had Spock join him for the captain's inquiry part of the proceedings and together they read through all the reports and looked at the evidence. The one bright spot, as far as Kirk was concerned, was that this really appeared to be the first and only time the man had tried this, so at least they weren't looking at a string of Prime Directive violations committed by one of his own crewman. And from what he'd heard from Giotto, the Ferengi had started singing like a bird and would very likely provide enough evidence to bring down this particular technology smuggling ring (though he shuddered to think of how many others there could be). He was being held in the brig on the _Enterprise_ for the moment but would be transferred to the _Copernicus_ to be taken to Earth to stand trial in a Federation criminal court.

The Captain's Mast was scheduled for the next morning. His nervousness over the proceedings and his anger at Palmer at a fever pitch, Jim wasn't feeling sociable that night. And so he didn't seek out Spock at or after the evening mess as had become his habit, going straight to his quarters instead. There he sat brooding on Prime Directive violations and crime and punishment far into the night and then didn't sleep well. By the morning, he was a frazzled mess, but he didn't want to postpone the proceedings. Putting it off would only make it worse, most likely.

After a breakfast of black coffee and half an egg—Kirk was too nervous and angry to really eat—he met up with Spock on the way to the Captain's Mast. In response to his first officer's subdued, "Good morning, Captain," he growled, "Let's just get this over with." Spock's eyes widened marginally in surprise as Jim continued glowering at the floor. This was going to be a hard day for the half-Vulcan anyway—it was, by unhappy coincidence, his mother's birthday on the Terran calendar, but only Nyota of all the crew knew that, and she wasn't there—and the captain's manner wasn't going to make things any easier. The tension the human was obviously feeling was spilling over, his foul mood as infectious as his normally cheerful one, and Spock edged slightly away from him. Kirk saw the motion but instead of trying to rein in his anger, he gave his first officer a scathing look. He was immediately sorry as he saw Spock's expression close in completely, but he was under too much stress at the moment to voice an apology. He could do that later, after the proceedings were over.

Giotto and Scotty were attending the proceedings to answer any questions about their reports, and they were already there when Kirk and Spock arrived in the room next to the brig where the Captain's Mast was being held. Palmer was then brought in escorted by two security people. He sat in stony silence while the captain gave a summary of the reports and asked Scotty and Giotto a few questions about them.

Palmer was growing more and more pale as the brief questioning went on. When it was over, the captain barked, "Crewman Palmer! You have heard the results of the captain's inquiry. Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

Palmer looked at him miserably and managed to croak, "My mother. I had no choice, sir; I had to do it for my mother."

Kirk felt his blood boiling. So, this little sneak thief was going to try to justify what he had done by invoking his _mother_?! He decided right then that he wouldn't believe a word that came from the man's mouth, but he had to hear him out anyway—it was the accused's right. He said, "Your mother. Really," putting vast skepticism into his tone.

Palmer replied, "Yes, sir. My brother, rest his soul, borrowed some funds from a Ferengi loan shark, and for reasons that he would never adequately explain to me, our mother signed the loan agreement instead of him. He died in an accident, and my mother was stuck with the debt. She's got enough to live on from an insurance policy from my father—he's dead, too—but she doesn't have the means to repay the debt. Now, I don't know if you know how Ferengi loan sharks operate, but if you miss one loan payment, the interest rate on the rest goes up at a compounded rate, so the total you owe goes way up, and the monthly payment increases, too; if you miss another, it goes up again, and so on. It's all in the signed agreement, so it's legal; you can complain, but if you don't like their terms, don't borrow from them, is their attitude. She didn't want to tell me what had happened, so by the time I even knew about it, she had missed two payments, and the amount had grown exponentially."

He stopped talking and began to tremble. Jim mentally rolled his eyes, thinking, _Oh, come on! This is taking the theatrics way too far!_ Palmer swallowed and went on, almost whispering, "Now here's the worst part. There's another provision in the debt agreement that if it gets above a certain amount, they declare it a 'high risk debt' that they don't expect to be repaid. So they…so they…" he stopped again and had to take several deep breaths before he was able to say, "So they take the person who signed the debt agreement and sell them into slavery. They don't call it that—they couldn't get away with it if they did—they call it the 'voluntary labor alternative repayment plan,' but it _is_ slavery."

Kirk was thinking, _You've got to be kidding me! Does he think I'm buying this_?! Palmer continued, "With the missed payments, the debt is now so high that they're almost ready to take her. My crewman's salary isn't enough to make the payments, even with what my mother can contribute." He stopped again and hung his head for a while before he was able to go on, his voice wretched and very quiet. "When we visited Star Base 4, I made contact with one of the Ferengi involved in the organization that my brother's loan shark belongs to. We worked out that if I could replicate parts to order for a smuggling ring, that they wouldn't take her, and I could even pay down on the debt some." He looked directly at Kirk then and said in a much stronger voice, "It's the only reason I would _ever_ do something like this! You've got to believe me, sir!"

The captain's voice and expression were very cold as he said, "My belief or lack thereof does not enter into this. It will be up to the judges at your court-martial to rule on the truth of your statements. You are hereby referred for court-martial, and you will be held in the brig on the _Enterprise_ until such time as you are transferred to the _Copernicus_ to return to Earth, where you will stand trial. The Captain's Mast proceedings are at an end. Dismissed."

Palmer wailed, "Please, sir! My mother…if I can't pay, they'll take her!"

"The prisoner will refrain from speaking! I said DISMISSED!" his voice coming out so loudly at the end that Spock, who was closest to him, practically jumped.

Palmer almost collapsed and was more or less carried away, and then everyone else filed out. After Palmer's outburst, Jim was now shaking with anger and experiencing that awful, washed-out, sick feeling that can follow too little sleep, too little food, too much stress, and too much adrenaline. Scotty and Giotto had gone on ahead. He stopped a few feet from the door to the room where they had held the Captain's Mast, and his first officer stopped, too. He turned toward Spock, reached a hand in his direction, and then paused. But instead of Spock nodding acceptance as he always had in the past, he shook his head very slightly. Jim let his hand fall back to his side, feeling even more turmoil inside than he had before the Captain's Mast. Normally, he wouldn't have pushed things, would have realized that Spock needed his personal space at that moment, but he'd been under far too much stress for far too long to be reasonable just then. He said in a low voice, "Spock, I really, really need you to let me make some kind of connection with you right now. This has been an unbelievably horrible experience for me…" but then trailed off. Spock was looking at him—directly _at_ him—with an intent, utterly unreadable expression. He didn't reply but rather turned on his heal and strode off rapidly in the opposite direction, never once acknowledging that Jim had even spoken to him.

The captain stood in the corridor, dumb-founded. Apparently, his first officer had just turned into a cold, emotionless robot. It was the first time that Jim had reached out to him in quite that way—hell, it was the first time in _years_ that he had reached out to _anyone_ in quite that way—and the man had literally turned his back on him and walked away. Unbelievable! Come to think of it, maybe he _hadn't_ just turned into a cold, emotionless robot, maybe that's what he had been all along, and Jim had been seeing all kinds of things that just weren't there.

Once he got on this track, his mind was off and running. Emotional and physical exhaustion adding to an already dangerous mix, his surging anger at Palmer now boiled over, and he began to feel furious at Spock, too. His fuming brain thought, _Well! I guess my first impression of that old guy in the cave was right! He _was_ crazy! There's no 'special friendship' in the offing for me with _this_ guy! I must have been _nuts_ to ever think so! He's just like pretty much everyone else in my life, not there when I really need them to be. And he just walked away like I didn't matter at all! Like I was nothing! I guess I should have expected it—everybody except Bones has abandoned me after a while…_and on and on in like vein as he slowly gathered himself together and started for his quarters. He decided he would not be going to the bridge today.

* * *

Author's Note: Well, things have ended in a bad place for our boys, but don't worry, they won't stay that way for long. I've doubtless got some of the Captain's Mast bit wrong—my information came from my husband's brain and what I read in Wikipedia—but I did the best I could without doing a bunch of research. And I don't think they would really hold a Captain's Mast for anything as serious as violations of the Prime Directive—I think that would go straight to court-martial ( I'm really only guessing here)—but hey, it's my story and I can have this be standard Starfleet procedure if I want.

I think this also probably wouldn't really be the case, but I've got Giotto being head of the entire security operation, responsible for both physical and cyber security. But I didn't think he would be a computer whiz, too, so I invented another character for that.

Since they're in space, I'm assuming that the ship would have room for multiple entertainment and recreational facilities, and this would include stuff like media rooms and coffee bars.

About Spock's relationship with Uhura: I don't think it says in the movie or the novel based on the movie when this started up, and I think I made up the part about her being his research assistant. But it made sense to me that they wouldn't have been in a relationship while she was actually his student, and I needed a device to keep them in close contact with each other after he was no longer her instructor.

As you may have noticed, all of the other ships in my story are named after astronomers. Oh, and the theory about laughter being an ancient signal that something new and unexpected isn't dangerous and the bit about rats laughing when they're tickled: those are real.


	5. Misunderstanding

Chapter 5: Misunderstanding

**Disclaimer: I don't own nutin', not no way, not no how.**

* * *

Spock walked out of the Captain's Mast next to Jim, his mind and emotions in complete turmoil. Unlike the captain, who obviously hadn't believed anything that Palmer said, Spock thought the probability that the crewman was telling the truth was so close to 100% that he didn't even bother to mentally calculate the odds that the man might be lying. Palmer's breathing and general demeanor, as well as his look of sheer panic and his collapse at the end of the proceedings, had convinced him. A few feet from the door, Jim stopped abruptly, and Spock halted as well, more from habit than anything else. He later wondered if the outcome of that day would have been any different if he had just kept walking instead, perhaps calling back that he had something to take care of. But he hadn't, he had stopped next to his captain.

Jim reached toward him and paused, but for the first time, Spock shook his head "No." He was wound up tight as a spring, and he feared that he would become emotional in the corridor if he allowed himself to be touched at that moment. And, quite uncharacteristically, he was falling into such a distracted state that he didn't take in Jim's look of distress at his refusal. Nor did he take in what Jim said to him next, in fact was not really even aware that the captain was speaking to him at all. A loud rushing sound had started up in his head—doubtless from stress, he knew it was just the sound of his blood forcing its way through the vessels in his ears, but it was the first time that he had ever experienced something like that, and he knew he would have to have it checked out in Sick Bay if it continued. And deep inside he felt an awful, sick tension, and an awareness of being pushed almost beyond his limits, more strongly than at any time since the destruction of Vulcan. Coming on top of that, the added strain he experienced from having to keep a tight rein on his emotions, lest he break down in public, was completely short-circuiting his brain. His thoughts in a whirl, he realized that if there were any chance that the plan he had formulated at the end of the Captain's Mast would succeed, he would have to act _now_. Without thinking about the consequences of simply leaving Jim in the corridor—really without being aware that there might _be_ consequences—he turned around suddenly and walked quickly in the other direction from the one they had been going.

Because of the Captain's Mast, he wasn't scheduled to be on duty as Science Officer until Second Watch, so Spock headed for his quarters. Once there, he went into action. First, he quickly pulled up the information he wanted from the computer; then, he headed to the brig. When he was finished there, he spent another half an hour on the computer before he was satisfied that he had done what he could. Now all he could do was wait and see if he had been successful. Based on what he had learned from the computer and his trip to the brig, he thought the odds were quite high that he had been—he calculated 88.67% probability of success—but he knew that his plan still might fail. It would be at least three days before he knew, but as there was nothing else to be done on this issue, he put it from his mind as much as possible. He decided to spend the time until lunch in meditation—that should help quiet the tumult he still felt.

Before he could begin, though, his mind went back to this time a year ago, when he had begged off from going home to Vulcan for his mother's birthday because he hadn't wanted to see his father. He had initially planned to be there, but when he learned his father would be at home instead of off on one of his diplomatic trips to Earth, he couldn't make himself go. The reason he gave his mother for changing his mind was true—there was a xenolinguistics conference to prepare for—but if he had really wanted to make the trip to Vulcan, he could have. He didn't know it at the time, of course, but it was the final opportunity he would have to see her before that last, desperate day on Vulcan, and he had thrown it away—because he hadn't wanted to see his father. He had promised her that he would be home for her birthday _this_ year, but, well, that could not happen now, and would never happen again. Vulcans did not attach the same importance to birthdays that humans did, but he had participated in celebrating _her_ birthday because she was his mother, and it was important to her. And if he were honest with himself, her birthday had also been a source of joy to him—again, simply because she was his mother; he would not have expressed it that way if asked, but the feeling had been there, none-the-less. But now the day was a hollow desolation to be endured.

He sighed internally and laid out his meditation candles; he sat on the floor, contemplating the candle flames. He was in desperate need of centering and focus today. His breathing slowed as the routine of meditation took over his mental and physical processes, and he felt some semblance of calm returning to him. As his stress level decreased, he found that the rushing sound in his ears stopped. That was good; now there was no need to visit Sick Bay.

Jim wasn't in the mess hall at lunch, but Spock didn't worry about that; he expected to see him on the bridge during Second Watch, as the captain was usually there during whatever watch Spock was assigned to as Science Officer. However, when he arrived, he found that Jim was not there, and one of the junior officers, Ensign Eun-ah Gyo, had the conn. When he asked her about it, she could only tell him that she had been assigned to be on duty for Second Watch at 0713, shortly before First Watch ended. He felt a growing sense of unease but couldn't pinpoint the source other than a vague worry over Jim's rather unexpected absence. He should be able to relax now: the Captain's Mast was over, he'd put his plan into motion, and the planetary surveys were going well. The only problem on the ship that he was aware of was a respiratory infection that had followed several crew members back from Star Base 7. It was a new one, brewed up in the stew pot of cultures that made up the star base. Fortunately, it wasn't deadly, but it wasn't at all pleasant, either. And it was only moderately infectious, but, as there was as yet no treatment for it, the illness was currently spreading though the ship. However, Spock thought it would soon cease to be a problem. Doctor McCoy was working with medical scientists at the star base to find a way to combat the disease, and he was confident that they would succeed, in part because the doctor was part of the team. As much as the two of them might bait each other, and as much as they might regularly and vociferously disagree, they each still had deep respect for the other's professional abilities.

So, it should have been a time when he could relax a bit. But the anxious feeling persisted, and he decided he should find the captain after Second Watch was over. They had barely spoken before the proceedings, as Jim's black mood had not invited conversation, and afterward, Spock had been in no condition to speak to anybody.

When Second Watch finally ended, Spock used the computer to locate the captain, only to find that he had left instructions that he was not to be disturbed except in case of emergency. This was very unusual, as Jim was normally available to the officers at almost any time. The half-Vulcan toyed with the idea of simply showing up at his quarters and demanding to see him, but upon consideration, decided not to. If he himself had asked not to be disturbed, he would not appreciate it if someone simply showed up at his door anyway and insisted that they be let in, and he thought Jim would probably feel the same way. So instead, he went to his quarters after getting a light meal; he could use the time for extra meditation and rest.

The next morning, Spock awoke still feeling the unease of the previous day, actually feeling it more strongly than before, if anything. He was back on First Watch, so after preparing himself for the day, he headed to the mess hall. Jim was there already, and Spock initially thought to join him, but the captain scowled at him when their eyes met. Spock might have gone over anyway and tackled whatever it was that had gone wrong between them right then and there, but Jim was cloaked in a "Don't' come near me!" aura that was utterly perceptible to anyone with any acuity at all. Spock made his face a complete blank in response to the hostile look he was getting from the captain and then turned away to find another seat.

Jim, with the blindness that can accompany truly unreasonable behavior, saw everyone shying away from him and thought, _What the hell is wrong with everyone today? I guess I should expect that kind of behavior from _Spoc_k—jeez, talk about being wrong about a person! See how he acted toward me just now! Talk about cold!_—_but everyone else!? Is there some sort of conspiracy against me today? Is it 'Be an ass to Captain Kirk' day or something?_

Shortly after that, Jim decided he wasn't hungry anymore and left the mess hall rather hurriedly. Spock watched him head toward the door but soon turned away. He did not want his face to show his confusion and sadness, and he thought that would be easier if he wasn't looking at the captain's retreating back. Something was very, very wrong, and even though it had looked like Jim was more-or-less equally angry with everyone in the room, somehow he knew that this really had to do only with him. He had a feeling that he had missed something important, most likely right after the Captain's Mast: events were fuzzy for a few minutes there and were not recorded with the usual clarity of his usually perfect memory. As he could not remember what had happened during that brief time, he had no idea what the very important thing that he had probably missed might be.

Spock stepped off the turbolift onto the bridge and saw that the captain was already in his chair. Jim nodded to him solemnly, and he had a fleeting moment of hope that the man was now over whatever had been causing him to act so belligerently earlier. But as the day wore on, he lost that hope as Jim never once smiled or joked or laughed, not with him or anyone else. Of course, on the bridge, there was no overt hostility between them, and today the bridge crew universally attributed the Kirk's uncharacteristic behavior to having had to deal with the theft and the Captain's Mast. The captain and the commander were both consummate professionals when they were working together, so no one working under them would have known that there was anything wrong between them, if they had been anywhere other than on a starship. Had they simply worked together in a city somewhere, they would have gone their separate ways at the end of the day, and their coworkers would have been none the wiser. As it was…well, Spock knew it was only a matter of time before the distance that had suddenly appeared between them became noticeable to their shipmates. How he would face that, how he would handle any questions about it, he didn't know. But then he reflected that of all the crew, only Doctor McCoy and Nyota might ask him. As direct as McCoy could be, he thought the man would probably ask Jim what was going on rather than him, so he was fairly certain he was safe there.

As he thought of Nyota, though, he felt a sudden pang. He knew, somehow, that If she were here, she would instantly be aware that there was a problem—she knew him very well indeed, and lately she seemed to be getting to be friends of sorts with Jim, and so was becoming attuned to him as well—and she would have it sorted out in no time. She might let it go on another day, seeing if they would resolve it themselves, and then if they didn't, she would march them into a room, sit them down, and get to the bottom of it. He didn't know how he knew this thing, but know it he did. Despite the problem he was currently having with the captain, he felt a rush of gratitude that he _did_ have a good friend he could rely on. The only problem was that she wasn't there. He thought briefly of contacting her at Star Base 7, but he decided not to. He was certain she had her hands full with the X'Chi!di refugees, and he didn't want to disturb her. Because of their joint enthusiasm for obscure languages, she would almost certainly have been messaging him about the experience of actually speaking this language if she had had the time and energy. Her communications were primarily reports of her efforts on behalf of the refuges. Beyond that, there was only a brief note that she had contracted a fairly mild form of the new respiratory infection and had been out of commission for a couple of days, but she was now recovered and back to work. So no, he wasn't going to contact her. He would just have to try to get through this on his own.

First Watch finally ended, and Spock gratefully left the bridge. The captain had left earlier, assigning Sulu to the conn for the duration of the Watch. The half-Vulcan stepped off the turbolift on the level where the mess hall was located and headed in that direction, but then he slowed as he neared it. Because of Jim's cold demeanor toward him, this day had been at least as stressful for him as the previous one, and he felt his emotional control beginning to slip. To combat this, he focused on making his expression as much of a Vulcan blank as possible. He walked slowly, looking down and concentrating on his breathing.

Upon reflection, Spock didn't think he could be around other people just then, so eating in the mess hall was out. He decided he could get something from the replicator in his quarters instead. He had stopped and had half-rotated around to head back toward the turbolift when he looked up to see Jim staring at him. He constrained his already impassive expression and saw Jim's look become openly hostile. He knew there was a high probability he would become emotional if he continued to stand there looking at the captain, so he completed his about-face and went back the way he had come.

Jim, meanwhile, had been approaching the mess hall from the other direction. He saw Spock in the distance and stopped in his tracks. He didn't think his first officer had seen him, as he seemed to be having a staring contest with the floor while he walked. The half-Vulcan had stopped and begun to turn around when he looked up suddenly and locked eyes with Jim. The captain took in his utterly expressionless face and felt his own countenance settle into a deep scowl. He had been right! It _had_ been a waste of time to try to cultivate this living _machine_, to ever imagine that there could be a _friendship_ with such a being! He watched in disgust as Spock turned away—typical, to just turn and leave him there, just like yesterday! Building on having already decided that the elder Spock was indeed crazy, as he had first thought upon meeting him, it was then just a step to questioning everything he'd learned from the old man during the mind meld and everything he'd learned about his first officer since. With Spock's inexplicable behavior after the Captain's Mast, he had been well on his way to discounting much of what he thought he knew about the man. And now he jettisoned the rest of it when Spock himself showed up and confirmed his worst beliefs: cold, emotionless robot didn't even _begin_ to describe the half-Vulcan. He'd have to come up with a new word or phrase to describe just what he was…

* * *

Three days passed in much the same way: Jim keeping his simmering anger at his first officer under control on the bridge and doing his best to avoid the man otherwise, and when that wasn't possible, making himself as expressionless as the half-Vulcan; and Spock walking around in seemingly impassive detachment, his face a complete blank. People had begun to notice—so far no one had actually asked Jim what was going on, but he knew that the crew was becoming aware that something was wrong just from the conversations that suddenly ceased when he approached and the whispers he heard after he'd passed—and it was only a matter of time before it was common ship-board knowledge that the captain and the first officer were on the outs again.

Spock was beginning to be worn down by the whole situation. His tiny support network (Nyota and Jim) was not available to him, and he was feeling very lonely and isolated. Having any kind of support network was relatively new for him—previously to Nyota, there had really only been his mother—but now that it was completely gone, he felt the lack very keenly. True, Nyota would eventually return to the ship, but he and Jim? Who knew how that would be resolved. The only bright spot for him was that he had finally heard on the previous day that the plan he had set in motion after the Captain's Mast had been successful. There would be no need for a second trip to the brig.

The next morning Jim was toying with his breakfast, trying to convince himself that he was hungry, when Bones came to sit with him. The doctor had been closeted in Sick Bay, working with the team at the star base to find a way to combat the respiratory infection, when he wasn't tending to his patients. Despite the relatively mild nature of the disease among the populations exposed so far, it had the potential to spread all over the quadrant and affect hundreds if not thousands of races. Who knew how all of those different humanoids would react to it? So, it was vital to find a remedy quickly. This had proven difficult, but they thought they had finally succeeded the previous afternoon. It wasn't until this morning that they had been satisfied that the treatment did indeed work and that it would successfully bring the infection under control, and so it was the first time in days that Bones had been in the mess hall.

McCoy got a half-hearted "Good morning" from Jim in response to his greeting. He looked at the congealing eggs on the captain's plate and decided to ask him about the rumors he'd started hearing after he finally was able to come out of the lab. He came right to the point, starting out conversationally, "So, seen much of Spock lately?" Jim choked on a sip of coffee and then glared at him after he managed to stop coughing. He croaked, "Why do you ask that?" Bones rolled his eyes and said, "Oh, no reason. Only that it's been less than a day since I poked my head up from the lab, and I've already overheard at least six conversations about ya'll maybe being mad at each other again." He narrowed his eyes at Jim and asked, "Did you and Spock have a fight or something?"

The captain looked back at him stonily; yeah, yeah, he knew people were talking, so what, who cared what they thought? He was determined to seem aloof from it all, but, as he had not yet been close enough to any of those whispers to hear what people were actually saying, curiosity got the better of him and he asked, "What have you heard?"

"Well, let's see." He held up a hand and began counting off with his fingers as he said, "One: that you're acting all stiff and uncomfortable around each other off duty, like you were _all_ the time until we were about half way home from our tussle with Nero." He let his hand fall to the table as Jim made a face and interjected, "Hey, I take exception to your calling that a 'tussle'!"

The doctor raised his hand again and said, "Don't interrupt." He held up another finger and resumed his count. "Two: that you're not spending almost every waking off-duty minute in each other's company."

Jim started as he realized that there was some truth to this statement: before the Captain's Mast, they _had_ been spending a lot of time together, and he suddenly became aware of how acutely he missed that. But before that realization could take hold and lead him to question his revised view of his first officer—if Spock really was the near-robot that Jim had lately come to believe, why did he long for a return to those times?—the need to defend his current stance took over. He bristled visibly and said defensively, "Oh, they're exaggerating. We didn't spend all _that_ much time together," while a small, buried part of his brain was whispering, "Liar, liar, liar…"

Bones rolled his eyes and said, "What_ever_!" He then remembered to be stern, and he admonished the captain with, "I said, don't interrupt!" He'd let his hand fall somewhat, but he now raised it again and held up a third finger. "Three: that you've barely cracked a smile or laughed since the Captain's Mast. Now, if I had to guess, I'd say something happened between the two of you right afterward. Apparently, nobody saw you the rest of the day, and then by the next morning, you were reportedly looking daggers at everyone you saw."

Jim didn't hear what McCoy said after "'you've barely" because he had stopped listening. He had to build up his fortress of unreasonableness if he was going to be able to hang on to it much longer. He went over in his mind every possible wounding thing that had ever happened between Spock and him, making a self-reinforcing loop of all his bad feelings. It is an odd thing about human nature that we sometimes revel in the hurt that we ourselves helped create: we do not want to let go of it. We keep adding fuel to the fire, we work to keep the wound fresh, not wanting it to scab over, much less heal. Jim did that now, his black reverie only interrupted by Bones shaking his shoulder and saying, "Earth to Jim, Earth to Jim, come in, Jim…"

He looked blankly at his friend as the doctor said, "I've been trying to get your attention for, well, I don't know how long exactly, I'm not Spock, so I couldn't tell you, but he can't either because he's not here, and somehow, I'm pretty sure that's because of _you_…" he ran out of steam and stopped.

Jim replied hotly, "Hey, _I_ haven't done anything! Go talk to Mr. Robot!"

Bones snorted, "Well, for someone who hasn't 'done anything,' you sure are acting mighty defensive. And _I'm_ not the one who needs to talk to Spock—_you're_ the one that should be doing that."

Jim snapped back, "If he wants to talk, he knows where to find me. And _hell_, why am I even talking to you about this? I don't have to explain myself to you, and I certainly don't have to stay here and be insulted!" He slammed out of his chair and huffed to the door. McCoy watched him go and shook his head. "Stubborn fool!" he muttered under his breath.

The rest of the day passed more or less normally. Spock was on First Watch as Science Officer. Jim was also on the bridge; he was interested in the outcome of the planetary surveys they were conducting, so the two of them were working closely together, looking at data and deciding on how to tweak the survey programs to get the best results. This had the potential to be an intensely uncomfortable experience, but their professionalism took over and the work went smoothly. It was another confirmation that they could still work together without overt conflict, despite their personal difficulties. It was almost like before the Captain's Mast—except that Jim never smiled or laughed, and Spock was absolutely wooden in his stance and expression.

After lunch, Jim left the bridge when they came to the end of the current sweep of the planet below them. Spock, of course, stayed until the end of First Watch, but he was feeling utterly drained when he was finally able to step into the turbolift. He decided to go directly to his quarters. He had gotten off the lift on the level where his, and Jim's, quarters were located. Spock headed down the corridor, but he slowed and stopped as he saw Jim approaching from the other direction, looking down as he walked. The half-Vulcan made himself as expressionless as possible—if he didn't, the hurt he felt, the constant ache at the loss of Jim's friendship, might show on his face, and he didn't think he could bear it should the man see that and then turn away. Better to not take the chance.

Jim raised his eyes to see Spock looking at him, totally expressionless and unreadable. Why he had ever thought there was anything behind those blank looks escaped him, as confirmation that he was right in his revised view of the man was once again before him, literally staring him in the face. He compressed his mouth into a thin line and frowned at Spock for a moment before he simply continued on his way past his first officer without saying a word.

Spock felt his heart drop to the vicinity of the floor. This couldn't go on, he couldn't stand it. The situation would have to be corrected, or he would have to request a transfer. They had proven that they _could_ successfully work together even under these circumstances. But, Spock now knew that he didn't want just a "successful working relationship" and no more with Jim. And it would simply be too painful to be around him all the time and know there would never be that extraordinary friendship he had recently come to believe could actually happen. Even if he stayed, over time the stress of trying to maintain a working relationship in the face of such underlying hostility would take its toll, and they would have to part ways in any case. Better to request a transfer sooner rather than later, if it came to that. He would be leaving Nyota behind if he transferred, but that might be the price he had to pay to remove himself from a situation that was becoming intolerable, if there were no other way to correct it.

So the choices were to fix the problem or leave. But if their current troubles were going to be resolved, it was up to him to do it. Nyota was not yet back on the _Enterprise_. The ship that the new translator for the X'Chi!di was traveling on had not yet arrived at Star Base 7, having been delayed by warp core problems, so she had missed the departure of the _Copernicus_ and would now not be rejoining them until they rendezvoused with the _Benjamin Banneker_ in several days time. He didn't think it good to wait that long—things might be past correcting by that point—so there was nothing for it but to take matters into his own hands. He went to his quarters to prepare to talk to Jim. If he meditated and centered himself first, maybe he could stay calm enough in the man's presence to find a way to repair the damage that had somehow been done to their nascent friendship.

* * *

After evening mess, Jim was working in his office, plowing through some of his administrative tasks. Some of this work was routine and could be handled by the yeoman who was assigned to help with secretarial duties, but there were some things he had to do himself. Tonight, he had dismissed Yeoman Rand, preferring to work alone. His thoughts turned idly toward her: a lovely young woman, Yeoman Rand; maybe he should try getting to know _her_ instead of Vulcan ice blocks.

Paradoxically, perhaps from older habits, he had the door open as he often did when he wasn't dealing with anything confidential. He had been concentrating on a report for some time when he became aware of a figure standing silently in the doorway. He looked up to see Spock regarding him with his now-normal, unreadable expression. They gazed at each other warily for a few moments. Spock swallowed and cleared his throat a couple of times before asking, "Sir, permission to enter?"

Jim forced himself to also assume a neutral expression instead of the scowl he at first wanted to present. He answered after a slight pause, "Permission granted, Commander."

Spock thought bleakly, _Commander, not 'Spock', not even 'Mr. Spock'. And not a hint of a smile. It might already be too late, but I've got to try._ He entered and shut the door behind him without asking. The captain gestured for him to take a seat at the conference table. He waited until the half-Vulcan had chosen a place before taking the chair that put him as far as possible from his first officer's and still allow him to be at the same table. A fleeting look of something—disappointment, maybe?—chased across Spock's face before his expression closed in again. He then lowered his head and looked down for a moment before he abruptly got up and moved to the chair that was closest to his captain's.

Jim forced himself to stay where he was rather than follow his inclination to get up and put some distance between them again. It was a pattern with him in his personal life; generally, he ran rather than face conflict of a deeply personal nature. And he knew that Spock was here to talk about a personal matter, not to talk about anything to do with the ship or the crew. If it had been some problem or conflict concerning the ship or the crew, or something like running headlong into the _Narada_—hey, No Problem! Bring it on! But personal-type stuff? Yeah, not so much. His unstable childhood—his mother's disastrous marriage to Frank, the stepfather who had physically and mentally abused him; her meaningless string of boyfriends afterward—had conditioned him to avoid such situations as highly dangerous. True, he had been able to get past this tendency when he had managed to apologize to Spock while they were on their way home, but that was definitely an exception to the rule. But now that his first officer had come to him, apparently to try to fix whatever had gone wrong between them, he decided that he owed it to the man to let him at least try, so he stayed put.

The commander asked, "Permission to speak freely, sir?" The captain replied, "Permission granted," and then looked away slightly. When Spock didn't say anything immediately, Jim turned toward him. He saw that Spock was looking at him searchingly, his face beginning to alter slightly from its tight mask.

He started, "Captain…" and then stopped. He shook his head and said, "No… Jim." He paused again for a beat and then continued, "Jim, you have not smiled at me nor joked in your usual manner since we parted on the evening before the Captain's Mast, and you seem to be avoiding being in my presence except when duty demands it. Nor have you attempted to touch me since that moment after the Captain's Mast. That is now five days, twelve hours, and 37 minutes ago." He paused and looked down again to regain control of his expression—he absolutely could not let Jim see how much all of this hurt him. He raised his eyes and asked, "Why?"

Jim stared at him, incredulous. "Why?! You're really asking me why?!"

"Yes, Jim."

"Well, I kinda got the impression that you don't much like it, so I stopped." The captain hadn't specified which statement he was responding to, but Spock knew he was talking about their now-ceased physical contact. Jim went on, "And I don't see how you can ask me about avoiding you when you obviously don't want to be around me! I mean, I asked you for help—I _asked_ _you_ for help—right after the Captain's Mast, and you just looked straight through me and turned and walked off like I hadn't even spoken to you, like I didn't matter in the least! And since then, every time I've seen you, you've had that damned a-store-mannequin-is-more-expressive-than-me face… " He trailed off as he realized that Spock was looking at him, but not with this mannequin-like look. If he had been asked to describe the subtle expression he now saw on the half-Vulcan's face, he would have said "dismay."

As Jim recounted having asked for help, Spock realized that _this_ was what he had missed after the Captain's Mast, his captain asking him for assistance. On top of refusing to allow Jim to touch him for the first time, he hadn't even heard the man ask him for help, he had been so distracted; that he had done this hit him like a physical blow. He had to sit for a moment with his eyes closed, absorbing it. When he looked at Jim again, he knew his distress was showing in his expression, but he was simply not able to conceal it. As it was, he had to fight to keep his voice steady while he said, "Jim, I apologize most sincerely. I was…not myself after the Captain's Mast. I was not even aware that you had asked me anything. I can only surmise that I appeared to be looking at you, but in truth, I was not. I had my mind on…some other matter, and I allowed myself to become completely distracted, which was quite inexcusable."

Jim had meant to let Spock keep talking without interruption, but curiosity got the better of him for a moment, and he asked, "What 'other matter'?"

Spock replied, "That is not important now." He paused and took several deep breaths before going on in a low voice, "Jim, there is..." He stopped again and seemed to be struggling to find the right words. After a moment he tried again, taking a different tack. "I must tell you, that although I am more comfortable with physical contact than most Vulcans, there are times when it would be very…difficult…for me to be touched. That was the case after the Captain's Mast. But, please believe me when I say that it was never my intent for you to permanently alter your behavior." He swallowed; his voice now just above a whisper, he said, "And it was certainly never my intent to injure your feelings and cause a rupture in our friendship. But I see that I did, in fact, do so. Taken together, especially, my actions must have seemed to you to be a personal rejection,"—here Jim started as he realized that yes, that was _exactly_ what he had felt—"and I view your anger toward me as completely justified. My only hope is that it is not too late to make amends. Please, Jim, will you forgive me?"

While he had been speaking, Spock's two halves had been warring inside him, the human need for physical contact vying with the Vulcan need for barriers against it. The Vulcan part was almost screaming, "No! If I am touched, I might lose control and break down!" while the human was saying, "Shut up. I need this. And besides, you'll see, it will be alright—it's _Jim_." This time, the human won. Before he could reconsider and stop himself, he moved the arm that he had been resting on the table marginally closer to his captain.

Jim saw the tiny motion toward him and felt the ice that had taken up residence in the pit of his stomach start to thaw. While Spock was apologizing to him, he began to see how severely he had been over-reacting, and he also began to feel like an insecure, over-sensitive idiot. Once the fortress of his unreasonable, wounded delusions began to crumble, it collapsed in an instant. Spock was right: he _had_ taken his first officer's actions as a personal rejection, and he realized that this was the primary reason he had then reacted the way he had, coming as it did on top of the overwhelming stress of the Captain's Mast. Beginning with his mother's emotional withdrawal from him early in his childhood, when he began to look like his father (_Damn, how is it _my_ fault that my dad was on the first ship to run into the _Narada?!) and continuing through the years until he enrolled in the Academy,he had experienced serious rejection so often in his life that he had become hyper-sensitive to it. The casual rejection from strangers (mostly women) that he tried to pick up in bars was not a problem; in those situations, he always told himself there was something better just around the corner. But, with the exception of Bones, he had been rejected or abandoned by all the important people in his life, the ones he truly cared about—his mother, his brother, childhood friends, every girlfriend he had ever had save one—and it had left him emotionally scarred.

So he was conditioned to react strongly to what he perceived to be yet another rejection. But now he saw how wrong he had been about Spock: his first officer was most emphatically _not_ like all of those other people who had abandoned him after a time. Of _course_ Spock had just needed his personal space at that moment after the Captain's Mast; he hadn't been rejecting Jim but rather had been protecting himself. There would have been no point in establishing their routine of reach-pause-nod-touch if there had never been any possibility of Spock's saying, "No." And of _course _Spock had never meant to hurt him. True, it had seemed rude of his first officer to stare at him and then leave without answering a direct question, but it was also quite uncharacteristic. And the very fact that it _was_ so uncharacteristic should have prompted him to seek the man out later and ask him what was wrong. But he had gotten into a royal snit instead and had come close to stupidly terminating their friendship because of it. He mentally shook his head at himself—such an idiot he could be. Spock bore some responsibility for the problem between them by being so distracted, but he, Jim, was the one who had taken it to the next level and beyond by seeing it as a personal rejection and reacting accordingly. Now he began to see the whole problem as being primarily his fault. He ran a hand through his hair and over his face. Did one ever stop making really serious mistakes, he wondered? Probably not, was the glum, but realistic, answer.

All his musings over in a couple of seconds, aloud Jim said, "Spock, I forgive you, of course I do," as he reached out and gently laid his hand on his first officer's forearm without asking, seeing the movement toward him, small as it was, as the half-Vulcan's way of saying, "Touch me, please." As he had come to expect when the man was stressed, the muscles under his fingers were taut, but now Jim experienced an odd little thrill when, for the first time, he felt Spock's arm relax a bit as some of the tension the half-Vulcan been holding inside faded away under his hand. And his heart gave a peculiar thump when he saw Spock's expression, unguarded for the moment, change from deep sadness to sudden hope. He then said, "Spock, I'm so, so, sorry. All I could think about after the Captain's Mast was myself, how awful it had been for me, and I didn't think about what it must have been like for you for all, or what you might have needed from me. Will you forgive me?"

Spock held Jim's gaze for a moment before looking down. A long exhalation, almost like a sigh, escaped him as the miserable tension and loneliness of the last few days began to melt away at the gentle touch. He had to swallow before he was able to speak, but his voice was steady as he looked up and said, "Of course I forgive you, Jim." He was still for a moment, but then he rotated his arm beneath Jim's hand and clasped the underside of his captain's forearm with his fingers. He let out another long breath as he looked down again, and when he looked up, his eyes were suspiciously bright.

When he felt Spock's hand wrapping around his forearm, Jim's heart literally skipped a beat. Something he barely dared hope would _ever_ happen just had: his first officer had reciprocated his touch for the first time. As the heat of the half-Vulcan's fingers penetrated the fabric of his sleeve, he noted that the man's hand was a little warmer than a human's, but not jarringly so. A smile like the sun then lit his face. Spock felt the rest of the tension he had been holding inside since the Captain's Mast suddenly let go as he took in Jim's smile. It was a genuine Jim Kirk smile, and it was just for him. The half-Vulcan's gaze warmed considerably and he felt both corners of his mouth tipping up noticeably. Borrowing a phrase he had once heard Jim use, he then asked, "So, are we good?"

Borrowing a gesture from Spock in his turn, the captain looked back at him steadily and inclined his head in assent. He left his hand where it was for a moment longer, then closed his fingers around Spock's arm briefly before breaking the contact.

They sat in companionable silence for a moment, and then Jim decided to ask Spock something that had puzzled him. He asked, "Spock, why was the Captain's Mast so hard on you? You didn't have to preside or write the report or anything. So why? Was it just the thought that someone who had been with the ship since she launched, someone we promoted, would do something like that?"

Spock considered a few minutes before answering. "First, I should tell you that the day of the Captain's Mast was my mother's birthday." Jim started and murmured, "Oh gods, Spock, I'm so sorry, I didn't know. That must have been incredibly hard for you. No wonder you were so upset." Spock nodded his thanks for that, but he was unprepared for the rush of sympathy he felt from his captain, and he had to duck his head to hide the fleeting expression of almost unbearable sadness that crossed his face. After a moment, though, he had regained control of his features; he raised his head, swallowed, and managed to say, "Thank you" in a rather strained voice. A few beats later, he continued, in a normal tone, "To answer your question, yes, realizing that one of our trusted crewmen was a thief was certainly part of my…difficulty, although it was not the main factor. That, primarily, was thinking about what was going to happen to Crewman Palmer's mother."

Jim felt like smacking himself on the forehead with his hand. Of course! It was so obvious, he must have been blind to have missed it. But then, he had a bit of an excuse. He had been absolutely sure Palmer was lying, believed it so strongly that it never occurred to him that Spock might be thinking the opposite just as strongly. True, he had learned that he was mistaken, but it still never occurred to him that the fate of Palmer's mother would be of such concern to his first officer. But he now understood that, given what day it was, and given Spock's belief in the truth of Palmer's account, the man would have been wrestling with all those feelings about what had happened to his own mother, just trying to keep from falling apart in public. And there he had been, demanding that Spock allow himself to be touched just so that he, Jim, could feel better about what he had just been through. He really was an idiot sometimes.

But, Jim remembered, at least there was now some good news he could give Spock about Palmer's mother and the debt. He said, "Oh, I need to tell you, Palmer asked to see me a shortly before he was transferred to the _Copernicus_. He was grinning from ear to ear, which isn't exactly what you'd expect from a prisoner awaiting court-martial on a serious charge." He paused a moment for effect before saying, "And do you know what he told me?" Having asked it as a purely rhetorical question, he didn't wait for an answer, continuing immediately with, "He said the debt had been paid!"

His first officer said only, "Indeed."

The captain looked at him curiously. He had expected Spock to have more of a reaction to the news, especially given that her impending fate was one of the reasons the Captain's Mast had been so difficult for him, but Jim put it down as a fluke. He continued with a bit of embarrassment, "Umm, that was yesterday. I uh, I should have told you sooner."

Spock waved a hand dismissively, and Jim felt a surge of relief—things really _were_ going to be alright between them. He went on, "Anyway, it was paid anonymously, but Palmer thinks he knows who it was."

The half-Vulcan suddenly looked unaccountably wary as he asked, "Really?"

"Yeah," Jim said. "He thinks it was paid by this man who's been after his mother to marry him. He's quite wealthy, so he's the only one Palmer or his family can think of who could have paid it, since pretty much everyone in the family is dirt poor. Now, according to what Palmer says his family told him, the man says he didn't pay it, and in fact _couldn't_ have paid it because he didn't even know about it. But Palmer doesn't believe him."

Spock showed a bit of curiosity then and asked, "Why not?"

"Well, Palmer says his mother has been putting off giving this man an answer. Apparently, he's nice, but dull—Palmer's dad was one of those dare-devil types that so many women go nuts for, so I'm guessing 'nice but dull' isn't her cup of tea. Anyway, Palmer thinks the man doesn't want to admit paying the debt because he doesn't want to put additional pressure on the woman to marry him. But ironically this might be what tips the scales in his favor. She's apparently so impressed thinking that he paid the debt and won't take credit for it that she's seriously considering saying 'Yes'. Now, you might ask, as I did, why, if she has a rich beaux, she didn't just 'fess up about the debt and agree to marry him if he'd bail her out, or just plain ask him to bail her out without getting hitched. Palmer said he doesn't know the answer, but if he had to guess, it's because his mother is, and I quote, 'the most optimistic person in the galaxy' close-quote, and she just assumed that something would happen to take care of the debt and that somehow things would work out OK." He smiled and shook his head. "Seems like this time, she was right." Jim paused again and looked quizzically at his fist officer, who was now staring down at the table and keeping his expression an absolute blank. He thought, _Damn, I was sure he'd be more interested in this!_ But he didn't comment, simply finishing his account with, "Well, anyway, just thought you'd like to know."

Spock continued looking down at the table with his frozen expression and merely nodded to indicate that he had heard.

Something about his first officer's whole non-reaction to the news now struck Jim as odd. He was looking at the man speculatively when insight came to him in a sudden flash. He said, "_You_ paid the debt!" and after a pause, "_That's_ what you went off to do after the Captain's Mast!"

Spock started very slightly, and his head snapped up at Jim's words. He thought it would remain his secret, the plan he had conceived at the end of the Captain's Mast and which he had subsequently carried out. He signed internally; he had not expected his captain to make that leap, but upon reflection, he realized that he really shouldn't be surprised. The man was observant, and sharp as a tack. Never mind that tiny, betraying start—Jim had spoken with such utter certainty that he realized there was no point in even trying to deny it. He said, in a slightly defensive tone, "What I spend my credits on is my business."

Jim raised his hands in a mollifying gesture and said, "Of course it is, I didn't mean to imply otherwise." He paused a moment before saying, "But Spock, that was a small fortune!"

His first officer gave one of his Vulcan half-shrugs. "The amount was of no importance; it truly was no hardship at all to pay it. I had that, and much more besides. I come from a very old and wealthy family. I have been well-paid for years. My wants are simple, and many of my needs have been provided for, both at the Academy and here in the fleet." He stopped and looked down for a moment before raising his eyes and saying in a very soft voice, "I saw no reason why Crewman Palmer's mother should suffer such a fate when it was easily within my power to prevent it." He closed his eyes briefly and then went on, his voice now just above a whisper, "I could not save my own mother…but I could save his. So I did."

Jim felt his heart swell as he took in the sheer generosity of the man, the pure, well, _goodness_ of the gesture—there was simply no other word for it. Without a second thought, he had paid a quite substantial sum just so a woman he had never met would not be condemned to a very bleak future. And he apparently hadn't planned on telling _anyone_ that he had done it. Jim marveled for a moment that the kindest person he now knew was a _Vulcan_. He said very softly, "She would be so very proud of you, Spock." The half-Vulcan colored slightly, and he had to clear his throat before he was able to say, "Thank you for saying that, Jim."

Then before things could get too sentimental, Jim reached over and punched his first officer lightly on the shoulder and said, "You old softy." Spock looked at him sharply then, but Jim was smiling and gazing at him very fondly, and he realized that he didn't need to justify his behavior. He relaxed, happily soaking up the approval he felt from his captain, and both corners of his mouth rose in the closest thing to a real smile that he had yet given Jim. The captain's smile became even broader in response.

They sat grinning at each other (Jim thought the expression on his first officer's face would definitely qualify as a Vulcan grin) for a few moments before Jim said, "I'm a nosey bastard, so I just have to ask: how did you manage it, I mean, paying the debt? I know you're brilliant and all, and seem to know almost everything, but somehow, I don't think you know many Ferengi black-market-smuggler types or loan sharks. How did you do it?"

Spock considered his answer for a few moments before he said, "I convinced the Ferengi we had captured that it was in his…best interest to assist me in contacting the debt holders." At Jim's quizzical look, he elaborated, "I reminded him of the severe financial penalties the Federation can impose for violations of the Prime Directive. I told him that if he would help me, I would impart the information that he had done so to the court, making sure he understood that I had no power to promise anything. Any leniency would be entirely up to the judge. Fortunately, that was enough to secure his cooperation."

Something in Spock's manner made Jim think there was a longer story to be told about this incident, but he decided not to press his first officer about it just then. Aloud he said, "Well, I guess even greed has its uses." But before he could elaborate any on that theme, the door chime sounded. Spock set his expression back to neutral as Jim called, "Come on in," and Bones walked into the room. The captain said, "Hey, Bones. Have a seat; just leave the door open," and the doctor walked in and plopped into a chair across from the two men. He took in Jim's smile and their relaxed postures and said, "Well, good. Glad to see you're back to normal."

Spock noted that the doctor had said "you're" instead of his more normal "ya'll," so the statement was open to interpretation. He had missed hearing Jim's laugh so much, it had become an almost physical ache, and he now thought of a way to make that infectious laughter ring out once more. He asked, "Doctor, are you implying that our commanding officer was not normal for some limited period of time?"

Bones realized that Spock had deliberately misinterpreted his word "you're," and he decided to play along. He snorted and said, "What do _you_ think, Spock? He's _never_ normal!" as Spock had confidently predicted he would.

The half-Vulcan replied, his eyes shining, "I agree with you, Doctor. I was merely questioning your implied time limit on such behavior."

Jim was so surprised he laughed. He knew, somehow, that Spock had not meant any offense at all, that he had said this purely to make his captain laugh. And anyway, he was pretty sure that Spock _liked_ the fact that he, Jim, wasn't exactly what most people would call "normal."

McCoy gaped at the commander for just a second before he recovered and said, "Whoa, Spock! It's about time you took my side on something!" and Spock inclined his head in apparent agreement.

Jim pretended to be miffed, and he said, "Hey! Do I smell a mutiny brewing with my XO and my CMO?"

Bones leaned over toward Spock and said in a stage whisper, "What do you think? Should we tell him our brilliant plan and _then_ lock him in the brig, or 'tother way 'round?"

Spock's eyes were alight with amusement as he leaned slightly in the doctor's direction and whispered back, "Surely, ''tother way round' would be more prudent. That is my recommendation."

"OK; now, how do we get him there?"

"Tell him there is something incredibly dangerous, and therefore exciting, locked in the brig?"

"Yep, that oughta do it."

Jim interrupted then with, "He's. Right. Here," but he was grinning when he said it, paradoxically pleased almost beyond words that his first officer would team up with the _doctor_ off all people, just to get him to laugh. As they both turned to look at him, he muttered under his breath that certain people seemed to _like_ it when he did something dangerously crazy and got away with it, thinking back to the look he'd gotten from Spock after they'd escaped from both Nero _and_ the black hole. But before anyone could pick up on that, he neatly turned the conversation by saying to Spock, "And did I just hear you say, ''tother way 'round'?!"

Spock replied, his face and tone completely serious, "I was merely quoting the doctor. Quotes should be rendered accurately—to do otherwise would be highly illogical."

It was Jim's turn to snort. "You just spouted some ancient colloquialism and are trying to pass it off as being logical?! I'm never listening to you again!"

Spock quipped back, "You do not listen to me currently. How will this be any different?"

Jim guffawed and Bones said, "Damn, Spock; you're actually being _funny_ tonight! Ya'll should fight and make up more often."

Spock became instantly serious and said, "No, I think I would rather skip that part and go directly to making Jim laugh instead." The words were out before he could think about it and stop them. When he realized what he had said, he felt his face grow hot, and he knew the tips of his ears were now a darker green than normal. But then he glanced at Jim to see him looking back with a very fond expression indeed, and he decided it was just fine that those words had slipped out. The captain then said, "Yeah, I like that plan a lot better, too."

Bones ignored Jim's comment as he rolled his eyes and said, "OK, Mr. Logical, justify that one for me."

Spock thought just a moment and then replied, "It is logical for me to want to have a good relationship with the captain. It benefits the crew and increases the probability that our missions will be successful. I have observed that laugher is a highly effective tool for strengthening relationships with humans. It is therefore logical that I should wish to make Jim laugh."

Bones snorted again and said, "OK, now I know for sure that 'logical' is just the Vulcan word for 'bullshit'."

Spock said, "You are entitled to your erroneous opinion. It does not change the facts of the situation," while Bones just spluttered and shook his head.

Jim was now looking at him with pure admiration. Talk about justification—his first officer had justified the _hell_ out of wanting to make him laugh. He said, "I take it back, what I said about not listening to you. Remind me to take you with me the next time I'm called on the carpet to explain some hare-brained thing I've done; I want you in my corner coming up with logical reasons for why I did what I did."

His eyes shining with open amusement, Spock answered, "Dammit Jim, I'm a science officer, not a miracle worker!" perfectly copying the doctor's pacing and inflection when he went into his "Dammit Jim, I'm a doctor, not a…!" routine. Jim practically howled with laughter while Bones' mouth dropped open in shock before he protested, "Hey, I don't sound like that!" The captain had to speak around a wheeze from laughing so hard, but he still managed to say, "Oh, yes you do! And, I've got to tell you, the look on your face when he said that was absolutely priceless!" McCoy gave up pretending to be upset at that point, and he added his smile to Jim's. Spock was doing his best to keep his own expression under control, but he just couldn't quite keep the corners of his mouth from tipping up an actual, perceptible amount, especially after Jim turned to him and mouthed silently, "I can't believe you just said that!"

Jim sat looking at the two men with him and felt his heart swell again. His two friends, his two _best_ friends, had just become friends with each other. Before, they had been—well, he wasn't quite sure what they had been—but he could confidently say that now they were friends, and he had seen it happen right in front of him. If this day got any better, he thought he would simply burst.

Suddenly more relaxed than he had been in days, Jim's accumulated fatigue caught up with him, and he stifled a huge yawn as he slumped a bit in his chair.

At that, Spock looked at the pile of reports awaiting the captain's attention and said, "Jim, you are fatigued, and I should let you get back to work. I am sorry for taking up so much of your time."

The captain sat bolt upright and gave him an admonishing look, saying, "Spock, don't you dare apologize for coming to see me tonight!" Spock inclined his head and said, "Then I shall not do so."

Jim didn't say it aloud, but he hoped the look he was now giving his first officer would somehow convey what he felt: _The work waiting for me? That's nothing. Almost losing my friendship with you? That was horrible!_ Spock seemed to understand as he again inclined his head in response.

The half-Vulcan then stood and said, "On that note, gentlemen, I shall take my leave. I bid you both good night."

As his first officer walked to the door, Jim said, "G'night, Spock."

Bones called, "G'night, Spock; thanks for playing!"

The corners of Spock's mouth tipped up slightly at that, and he said, "You are welcome, Doctor. It was a quite…interesting experience." He then nodded to them and headed out the door.

The two men left at the table were quiet for a few moments before Bones asked, "Well, it looks like you sure got over whatever it was that was eating away at the two of you. Are you going to tell me what happened a few days ago that set it all off, or how you fixed it?"

Jim considered. Spock hadn't said to keep any of their conversation confidential, but he knew, somehow, that this was purely because his first officer simply trusted that he would do so. He decided on his answer. "Well, let's just say we had a misunderstanding, which I then blew up out of all proportion. But I came to my senses, and we're fine now."

Bones nodded, saying, "OK, I can accept that. But you know, as your doctor, I just have to pry into your life; got to make sure you don't screw up royally. Or if you do, I've got to be there to point it out, just in case you don't notice."

Jim chuckled and said, "Thanks; I knew I could count on you." His expression changed then, becoming serious and wavering between shame and embarrassment. He said, "Bones, if I ever do something like that to Spock again, would you please just whack me upside the head with a two-by-four and knock some sense into me?"

The doctor replied, "You got it—and that's a promise! Hell, I would have done it _this_ time if I'd known; it was just bad timing on your part that I was buried in the lab. Next time ya'll are going to have a spat, be sure and notify me in advance so's I know I have to ride herd on you."

Jim answered, "Yeah, we'll be sure and do that." He paused for a moment and then decided it was now time to lighten the mood. He said, "'Course, we'll have to invent a time machine first so we can go back and alert you, and hell, if we're going to do that, we might as well just have _fun_ with it instead." He stopped again briefly and then grinned wickedly. "And you want to know what would be really fun? We kidnap you and make you come along! I mean, you've had _so_ much fun with space travel—just think: time travel will be even _better_!"

Bone's swatted his arm and said, "Don't you dare, or I swear I'll have a special concoction mixed up in the hypospray just for you. You won't be able to use your hands for a month! And on that note, I'm leaving before I'm tempted to get that two-by-four now."

Jim laughed and saw his friend to the door before he returned to the stack of reports. He would probably be up until 1800 at least, just six hours before the clock ticked over to the next star date at 0000 and First Watch began, but that didn't matter at all. He set to with a light heart.

* * *

As he walked away down the corridor, Spock realized he wasn't really very tired, so he decided to stop by the Observation Deck instead of going straight to his quarters. It was now late in the day, and the place was deserted. He chose one of the old-fashioned wing-back chairs, leaned his head back, and sat watching the passing star field. He reflected on how well the day had ended, especially considering how it had begun, and considering the days that had preceded it. He contemplated his seemingly out-of-character behavior in Jim's office after the hurt that was standing between them had been cleared away. The awful misery of the past few days had weighed heavily on him; Jim's anger and coldness toward him had hurt, a lot, much, much more than he had been prepared for, but that was over now and he was again bathed in the sunshine that radiated from the man once more. When he understood that he had not lost Jim's friendship after all, he had felt almost impossibly light-hearted, better than at any time since the destruction of Vulcan. Perhaps, he thought, this was what had allowed him to joke with the captain and the doctor, even taking McCoy's side for the first time. And he realized with a pleasant jolt that his small circle of friends had just expanded by half again, from two—Nyota and Jim—to three to include the doctor. It was odd but pleasant to recognize that he could now think of the doctor as a friend. Before, they had been verbal sparring partners more than anything else, but now, they were actually friends. It was strange and unexpected, but rather wonderful as well.

He thought, too, about the renewed physical contact with Jim. Spock had not known how important this was to him until it had been withdrawn. And his human half had been correct: it _had_ been alright when the captain's hand had landed on his arm. In truth, it had been much more than just "alright": the human part of him had instantly relaxed under that friendly hand, happy in the physical affirmation of their renewed friendship, and for the first time, the Vulcan in him had relaxed at the touch as well, calmed by the human part bubbling happiness through his whole system. And he had even been able to reciprocate in a way, wrapping his own hand around his captain's arm. Here, again, he had acted on impulse, before he had a chance to think about it and stop himself. A quote from a human philosopher, something he had learned in one of his courses at the Academy, came back to him then: "Do good before you think about it." It _was _good that he had let himself act on those human impulses, as doing so had helped mend the rift between him and Jim. He reflected that it was not very Vulcan-like, but it had felt right, and he had no regrets. It was, he thought, an important step in his evolving relationship with Jim.

And he realized that this same impulse—to do good before one could think about it, unvoiced though it was at the time—had been one of the driving forces behind his determination to rescue Ensign Palmer's mother. Without stopping to think about it, he had acted out of simple, human compassion, and again, it had felt right, and he had no regrets.

Spock's mind then went back to the incident that had opened the rift, his refusal to let Jim touch him after the Captain's Mast. He considered in turn the most likely possible outcomes if he had not refused. He found that he simply did not have enough of a database of experience on which to calculate exact odds, but he estimated that there was something like a 30% chance that he would have had to stand out of the way in the corridor with his eyes closed, Jim's hand on his shoulder or his back; about a 68% chance that he would have had to lean up against the wall with his eyes closed, again with Jim's hand on his shoulder or back; and perhaps a 2% probability that leaning against the wall would have included some form of tears, but had that happened, he was certain that Jim would have drawn him to his chest and tried to soothe him. In addition, he thought there was a vanishingly small possibility, something on the order of 0.001%, that he would have fallen sobbing to his knees. But if _that_ had happened, he knew with absolute certainty that Jim would have been right there on the floor beside him, wrapping him up in a tight hug and doing his best to comfort him. As he considered these latter two possibilities, he felt an odd little twist inside at the mental images of being held up against Jim's chest and of Jim's arms wrapped around him, but he quickly pushed those pictures aside.

He returned to his original train of thought. The scenario where he completely lost control—the worst by far for showing emotion in public—was also by far the least likely to have happened, had he simply permitted Jim to touch him. He wondered, even if that had happened, would it really have been worse than what had actually happened? No, he thought, most emphatically not.

But, Spock saw that there were lessons to be learned from the experience, and he intended to learn them. The first was that he had to be careful that his need for emotional control not interfere with his responsibility to those around him. It would be far better to show some emotion in public than to risk another, similar episode, if it came to that. And he must never let himself be so distracted again. As he considered this aspect of the whole sad incident, he realized with a start that he could have easily avoided the entire thing if he had simply told Jim what was wrong and perhaps, just perhaps, have even asked him for help. He suddenly comprehended that this was another lesson: now that he had a support network, he should use it, even if it was sometimes hard to ask for help. He recognized that his Vulcan upbringing would make this difficult, but that was something he could work on. Jim and Nyota, and now Doctor McCoy, were all his friends, and he knew he no longer needed to shoulder everything alone.

As Spock thought about the emotional turmoil of the last few days—that awful time of miserable, horrible misunderstanding— he knew he never wanted to go through anything like that ever again. This was yet another lesson: he determined right then that if he and Jim (or anyone else) ever had a serious problem in the future, he would talk to him as soon as he possibly could, no matter how uncomfortable it might be to take that initial step.

As he reflected further, the final lesson came to him, and he knew it perhaps the most important one of all: though he and Jim would certainly have some problems in the future—even with supremely compatible people, there will still be difficulties and conflicts—he now had utter confidence that they would always be able to find their way back to each other, no matter what. He gave another internal sigh, but this time, it was one of contentment. It was time to head on to his quarters. After one last look out the window, Spock rose and turned to go, walking with a light step and with the tiniest of Vulcan smiles on his face.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Whew! Ya'll can relax now, they're not mad at each other anymore. I'm planning a couple of light chapters next before we get into anything heavy again. And no, when we get to that, it won't be Jim and Spock having another fight, but more than that, I'm not sayin'.

Thanks _so_ much for the wonderful reviews! I'm having a blast writing this, and I'm glad folks are enjoying reading it, too! I haven't done any creative writing for about 40 years, so this is really new for me. But, it's unbelievably fun!

There was a question about how to find _Home_, the fanfic slash story I mentioned in the author's note at the end of chapter 1. Here's as much of the URL as this site seems to allow: s/5071703/1/Home (thought I'd seen full URLs on the fanfiction site, but maybe they're only allowed on the author's profile page or something). But, you can get to it for sure by sorting the stories for Star Trek 2009 by "Favorites" or "Reviews", and it comes right at the head of the list with both. It's been favorited and reviewed by far more people than the next most popular stories, so that gives you an idea of how good it is. As I warned in that first author's note, it's never been finished (and unfortunately, looks likely to remain that way), but it's far enough along that you can tell what's going to happen.

There was also a question about the red thread of fate of Oriental legend. I can't do better than what's presented in Wikipedia (and wow, what a _great_ thing that's turning out to be!). Again, I'm not able to include the full URL for the article, but the partial one is: wiki/Red_string_of_fate. Below, I've copied the introduction, which presents the basic concept.

"The **red string of fate**, also referred to as the **red thread of destiny**, **red thread of fate**, and other variants, is an East Asian belief originating from Chinese legend and is also used in Japanese legend. According to this myth, the gods tie a red cord around the ankles of those that are to meet one another in a certain situation or help each other in a certain way. Often, in Japanese culture, it is thought to be tied around the little finger. [_Parenthetical info added by WolfLibre: I think this may explain why the pinky swear—especially between people who are or will be romantic partners—is such a prominent thing in Japanese anime._] According to Chinese legend, the deity in charge of "the red thread" is believed to be Yuè Xià Lǎo (月下老, often abbreviated to "Yuèlǎo" [月老]), the old lunar matchmaker god who is also in charge of marriages.

"The two people connected by the red thread are destined lovers, regardless of time, place, or circumstances. This magical cord may stretch or tangle, but never break. This myth is similar to the Western concept of soulmates or a destined flame."

If you want to know more, there's lot of additional info in the full article. Just search it in Wikipedia as red thread of fate.

Anyway, I think that's it for now. Thanks for reading!

–WolfLibre


	6. Preparations

**Author's note: **thanks so much to everyone who has reviewed/favorited/follows this story! I have limited time to write, and it's either been work on new chapters or answer people who've reviewed. I hope folks have agreed with my decision to go with writing new material, but I also hope to have time to reply soon. Thanks again for reading!

* * *

Chapter 6: Preparations

Sulu stopped outside the door of the captain's office. He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders as he punched the call button and identified himself. The door swooshed open, and before he could ask permission to enter, Kirk said preemptively, "Hey, Lieutenant, come on in. What's up?"as he laid aside the report he had been reading on a data PADD.

Sulu walked in and shut the door behind him. He cleared his throat and asked nervously, "Permission to speak freely, sir?"

Jim groaned inwardly. After the misunderstanding with Spock, he didn't want to have to deal with any more personal problems just yet, and he was pretty sure from Sulu's nervous glances that this was something personal. Dammit, he wanted life to just be normal for a while! But when you're the captain of a star ship, you can't pick and choose what you have to deal with. Not letting his face reflect his inner misgivings, he said, "OK…uh, I mean, permission granted." Even now he sometimes forgot to act properly captainly.

Sulu took a deep breath and began, "Well, you might not know this, but Thursday next week is Pavel's 18th birthday." He belatedly realized that he had called his friend by his first name instead of saying, "Mr. Chekov," as he had intended. But it was too late to do anything about it, and as there was only one Pavel on the ship, the captain knew who he meant, anyway.

"Ah, yes, I think I did know that at one time, but it had slipped my mind. Now that we've established that …"

"I want to throw him a surprise party," Sulu blurted out. As the captain narrowed his eyes and frowned slightly, the helmsman inwardly cursing himself as he realized he'd just stated his point without bringing up all his carefully prepared arguments in favor of the party first. Well, the cat was out of the bag now. Maybe the captain could still be talked into it. He stayed quiet as Jim's expression changed to a slow smile and a light began dancing behind his eyes.

Jim's brain began churning away when Sulu stated the reason for his visit to the captain's office. It had only been a couple of days since he and Spock had made up their differences, and although no one on the crew knew the nature of the problem between them, pretty much everyone knew that there had been one. Having a party would be a great way to get them all past it. Aloud he said, "Mr. Sulu, I think that's a great idea!"

"You do? Thanks, Captain! So I can go ahead with the planning?"

"Sure. Is there anything you need me to do?" Jim asked.

"Well, for starters I want to take over the C Deck rec room for the night." This was the smaller of two such rooms on the ship, and it contained a bar, gaming tables of several kinds, and an area for darts, along with plentiful seating. The D Deck rec room, more of less directly below, was large enough to accommodate a 52 foot by 31 foot international size half-court basketball court plus having room for one stand for spectators. This was where team sports like basketball , volley ball, and similar games from far flung places in the galaxy were played. Despite the seeming extravagant use of square footage for such things, Starfleet saw the wisdom of having them, as they were great for moral and for keeping up physical conditioning. After a pause, Sulu then offered, "I guess there might be some complaints about taking over the rec room, though. There's the regular poker game on Thursdays …" He trailed off.

Jim answered, "Uh, yeah, I'm one of the semi-regulars at that, so I can run interference with the others. It can be moved elsewhere, if they even still want to have it. I'm thinking there's a good chance most of them would want to be at the party instead, anyway."

"Thanks, Captain; that's probably true. Um, there's one other thing. I need a way to keep Pavel from going to the rec room straight from First Watch. We're both on duty then, and he asked me to go join him right afterward for his first lega… I mean, his _first_ vodka," his face going scarlet from his near blunder.

Jim rolled his eyes as he shook his head and muttered, "I'll pretend I didn't hear that."

Sulu muttered back, "Thanks, Captain." He continued in a more normal tone, "And I've already told him that I would. But then I got to thinking that it would be really nice to have a surprise party for him. Everything could be set up in advance—Pavel's really popular, and I'm sure I can get other people to do that, so that's not the problem—but even so, people will still need time to get there from all over the ship before he shows up. I've been thinking about it, and I haven't come up with anything good yet."

Jim's smile got even bigger as he said, "I've got an idea." He spoke into his communicator, "Mr. Spock, this is the captain. Would you join Mr. Sulu and me in my office?"

"On my way, Captain" came the swift reply.

As they waited for the first officer to arrive, Jim outlined his idea to Sulu that Spock be the person to delay Chekov. In addition to the fact that he genuinely thought his first officer would be perfect for the job, he had a hidden reason for casting the half-Vulcan in the role of diversion agent. He thought that if he could get Spock to participate in more off-duty activities, maybe loosen up a bit and let his human side come out more, he would have an easier time fitting in with the largely-human crew, and he wouldn't be so isolated. This, however, the captain kept to himself.

When Spock identified himself at the door, Jim hit the button to open it, calling for him to come on in. As the half-Vulcan walked in, to Sulu, he looked completely, normally neutral, logical and unemotional. To Jim, the very slight tension around his eyes and the extra-straight posture betrayed his apprehension. The captain had given him no clue as to the nature of the situation that required the first officer's presence, so the man had not known what to expect. But as Jim watched him, he saw the tension around Spock's eyes dissipate, and then as the his own smile widened, his first officer's posture relaxed into its normal ram-rod stiffness. As ever the astute observer, Spock knew that with Jim smiling like that (and how wonderful it was to see that again!) there couldn't really be anything wrong.

Spock nodded to the two of them and said, "Captain, Mr. Sulu."

Jim replied, "Thanks for joining us, Mr. Spock; have a seat. " After he was settled, the captain asked, "How would you like to become a co-conspirator with Sulu and me?"

That earned him two raised eyebrows. Jim laughed and explained what they were up to. Sulu chimed in, "See, the problem is that I already agreed to meet him in the C Deck rec room right after First Watch ends."

Spock thought there was an obvious, logical remedy for that. "Why do you not ask him to meet you at a later time?"

"Well, I'm afraid he'll get suspicious, and I reeaally want this to be a surprise."

Spock drew his eyebrows together very slightly and turned a minutely puzzled glance toward Jim. The captain decided to try to explain and said, "It's kind of a human tradition to give surprise parties, particularly for birthdays. It's a way to do something nice for a person that's kind of unusual, kind of different from a normal birthday celebration. Besides the whole party thing just on its own, there's the surprise element, too. It's kind of hard to explain, but they're just, well, fun!"

Spock said then, "I have never been to such an event. What is entailed?"

Jim wanted to smack his hand to his forehead, but he managed to restrain himself. He thought, _Of course Spock wouldn't know that—he's never been to one!_ Aloud he said, "Well, the idea is to get everyone but the vic…I mean, honoree, to gather in a room, where they hide, if they can, or if that's not possible, they just turn off the lights. Or maybe they turn off the lights even if they _can_ hide. But anyway, then the diversion agent—that's you in this case—brings the, err, honoree to the appointed location. When the diverter and the honoree come through the door, the lights get turned on, if they're off, at the same time that everyone who's managed to hide jumps up, and they all yell, "SURPRISE!"

Spock listened to the explanation in silence, but both his eyebrows were up to his hairline by the time Jim had finished. He then said, "And do the vic…err, _honorees_, at such occasions generally appreciate this…gesture?"

Jim laughed and replied, "Yep, sure do!" At Spock's slightly skeptical look, he continued, "You know, right, that we get a kick out of being surprised, when it doesn't hurt, anyway? OK, so this is just an example of that writ really large. And it's done by a person's friends, for them, to make a celebration even more special. And come to think of it, that's probably why it's more typical to do this sort of thing for one of those 'milestone' birthdays, like this one for Chekov, where he turns 18 and can legally drink alcohol." Spock digested this and then nodded to show he understood the concept, at least. Jim continued, "So anyway, we, by which I mean 'I'—can't let you blame Sulu for this idea—were thinking maybe you could delay Mr. Chekov somehow. Maybe…I don't know, ask him to help you with some periodic review or other at the end of his Watch…

Spock almost-frowned and said, "Captain, I am not certain that I am the best person for this task."

"Sure you are, Spock; in fact, you're prefect. He'll _never_ suspect you're in on this, too, so he won't have any inkling of what we're up to. I won't _order_ you to do it, but I'd really like you to … so pleeaase Spock?" Jim wheedled as he graced his first officer with one of his more brilliant smiles.

Spock blinked as he gave an internal sigh and resigned himself to doing as requested. He was already learning that it was close to impossible to resist Jim when he smiled like that. He had not been surprised when human crew members caved under the force of that smile, but now he was doing it, too, which _was_ surprising. But then again, he considered, maybe it wasn't. Even though he'd been raised as a Vulcan, and he wasn't supposed to be affected by things like _smiles_, in fact, he had to acknowledge that he was so affected, and by Jim's smile in particular. Just two days previously, he would have done just about anything to get that smile to come back; he would have to spend some time considering all of this during meditation. Aloud he said, "Very well. I will do it."

"Thanks, Spock! Now we just have to figure out how you're going to delay him," Jim said.

Spock thought for a moment and then said, "There is a periodic check of the bridge navigation controls that would normally take place three days after Mr. Chekov's birthday. He would be expected to take part in that; perhaps he would not notice that the date is incorrect."

Jim considered. "Well, on the face of it, that's perfect, but since it's his own area, and close to his birthday to boot, I'm betting that he'll know the real date that's supposed to happen. Is there something else coming due soon?"

"The check of the helm controls is scheduled to be done five days after his birthday. Mr. Sulu, do you think he would know the date of that review?" Spock asked.

"Probably not, especially if I don't bring it up," Sulu answered.

Jim said, "That should work then. The Watches for next week have already been assigned, and now we just have to think of a way to get you off of the bridge early that day so that it would make sense for Spock to ask Chekov to help test the helm controls …."

They sat pondering, and then Sulu said, "I'm going to be taking part in a conference call with a couple of doctoral students at the Academy for a paper we're co-writing on advanced computational mathematics for piloting around fluctuating worm holes. That's supposed to be a couple of days after Pavel's birthday, but he doesn't know that, so I could say it was that day. We could use it as a way to get me off the bridge early but still guarantee I'll be able to meet him when the Watch is over, because things like that have a definite start and stop time. And I could explain that the call has to be scheduled when it is because both of these people are also TAs, and they have classes to teach."

Jim thought briefly and said, "OK, let's go with that; we'll have your Watch replacement show up, say, 45minutes early?" Sulu nodded agreement, and Jim continued, "So Spock, after the helm control check …" he stopped as Spock blinked and put up a hand. He asked, "Problem, Spock?"

The half-Vulcan said then, "One moment. What reason would I give him for requesting his assistance rather than that of his replacement?"

Jim replied, "His replacement is Ensign Elena Marin, who is relatively new. You could say you want Chekov to assist and have Ensign Marin watch how it's done.

Spock nodded and said, "That is a logical reason."

Jim went on, "So anyway, I'd like you to walk with Chekov to the C Deck rec room, to make sure he gets there. He'll probably go there straight away since he's supposed meet Sulu for his _first_" here he looked at Sulu and winked, "drink aboard the _Enterprise_, but I don't want to take any chances on that score."

Spock's eye's narrowed very slightly and his eyebrows drew together fractionally. Jim noticed and asked, "Something troubling about that, Spock?"

His first officer hesitated a moment and then asked, "What reason would I give him for doing so? I am not exactly known for frequenting the recreation rooms..."

"Well, there's no better time than the present to start changing _that_ perception, but I do see your point. Hmmm….Oooh, what about this: Sulu and I will talk to Ensign Marin in advance and fill her in on the plot. Then, when she's coming to replace him, and he's leaving, he can say something like 'See ya soon, birthday boy' to Chekov. After you're finished with the helm control check and are about to head out yourselves, I can get her to ask Chekov if he's meeting Sulu somewhere to celebrate his birthday. He'll say where he's going, and then you can say something like, 'Oh, I have to talk to Sulu, too, so I'll tag along', or the Vulcan equivalent of that," he said with a grin.

Spock considered a moment, than nodded slowly and said, "That is an acceptable solution."

Jim replied, "OK, that's settled then." He switched gears. "Spock, is there anything in particular you'd like food- or drink-wise at the party? Sulu knows what kind of stuff the humans will want, but…"

Spock shot him a tiny look of surprise and asked, "You expect me to attend the party as well, not just deliver Mr. Chekov to it?"

The captain blinked at him and said, "Well, sure, Spock." He then narrowed his eyes and asked in a suspicious tone, "What, were you planning to just dump him and run?"

Spock answered, "I would not phrase it that way, but essentially, yes."

Jim looked at him in consternation; if Spock refused to actually attend, his scheme for getting his first officer more involved in the life of the crew would fall apart. It would still be good to have the party, of course, but, _damn_, this was such a perfect opportunity… Aloud he said, "Well, I won't _order_ you to come, but I think the crew will expect it, since you're part of the arrangement for the surprise and all."

That got Spock's attention. He looked down and seemed to be considering his response when Jim blurted out, "Come on, Spock, just say you'll come."

Feeling pressed, the half-Vulcan looked up and was about to say, "No," when the almost pleading expression on his captain's face stopped him. He found himself saying for the second time, "Very well. I will do it." He suppressed a small sigh and decided that he would need extra meditation time tonight. Although he had been raised to be a strictly logical being, he had to acknowledge that he was falling rather short of acting like one. Here he was—again!—responding emotionally to an emotional appeal. It was so un-Vulcan like; if he didn't put a stop to this sort of behavior soon, there was no telling where it might lead. His Vulcan self was urging him to turn around and scurry back to the safety of his past and what he had been not so very long ago: aloof and apart, contained. But, his human self was ready to follow wherever this new path might lead, and it's voice was whispering _Connection_ and _Freedom_.

Unaware of his first officer's inner conflict, Jim was smiling again as he said, "That's great! Thanks, Spock!" He turned back to Sulu and asked, "Do you think you'll be able to get enough volunteers to help you with planning and set-up and stuff like that?"

"Probably so, sir. Like I said, Pavel is really popular, and I think pretty much everyone I'll ask will say they'll be glad to help."

"OK, good. But let me know if it's a problem, and I'll lean on some people."

Sulu said, "Thank, Captain."

Jim asked him then, "Anything else right now?"

"No, sir, I think that does it," Sulu answered. He stood up then and started moving toward the door as he said, "I'll get out of your hair now." He paused at the door to Jim's office and said, "Thanks again, Captain, Commander."

Spock inclined his head in acknowledgement as Jim said, "You're welcome, Mr. Sulu; glad you thought of doing this. And just let me know if you need anything else from me."

"Will do; thanks, Captain," Sulu said as he left the room.

Spock stood up then and said, "Jim, I should be going as well."

Jim walked with Spock to the door and then reached toward him and paused. He wasn't sure if he still needed to do this, but he decided he would err on the side of caution and keep asking permission, until the man told him he no longer needed to. Spock once again nodded his acceptance, and he rested his hand lightly on the half-Vulcan's upper back, with his finger just curving up slightly over one shoulder. He noted that the tense muscles under his hand initially tightened further before the man relaxed again, and Jim thought, _Damn! I'd hoped we were past that; maybe he's a little stressed about this party._ Aloud he said, "Spock, I really appreciate your being willing to do this. Like I said, I wasn't going to order you, but …" he shrugged.

Spock blinked and then looked back at him with a slightly uneasy expression as he said, "You are welcome, Captain. I hope I can perform this duty satisfactorily."

Jim was about to tell him not to think of it as a duty, but then he just smiled and said, "I'm sure you'll do fine, Mr. Spock," as he squeezed his first officer's shoulder briefly before removing his hand.

Spock inclined his head in acknowledgement and said, "Thank you, Captain," as he left Jim's office. While he walked away down the corridor, he realized that he had some doubts on that score—Jim had no idea what it was like to be the lone Vulcan in a sea of humans—but he put it from his mind to concentrate on other things for the time being. He would put in some extra-extra meditation time tonight—that should help.

* * *

Three days later, Jim was again working late in his office without the aid of Yeoman Rand when the door chime sounded. He said, "Come on in," as he looked up to see Spock standing uncertainly in the doorway. "Hey, Spock; come on in and have a seat. What can I do for you?" he asked.

Spock sat at the conference table as Jim got up from his desk to join him. He knew his first officer's subtle expressions well enough to see that he was looking distinctly troubled. His posture was even more rigidly-upright than normal, his lips were very slightly compressed, and he didn't quite meet Jim's eyes. The captain gave him a probing look, and he was about to ask Spock what was wrong when the man got up abruptly and started pacing the small room, his hands clasped together behind his back. Jim watched him make three passes to and fro before getting up himself. He stood in front of Spock, blocking his path. He held his hands up in a "stop" gesture, and said, "Hey, whoa there, buddy. You're going to wear out the carpet."

Spock blinked at him as he ground to a halt before regarding the captain with a dark, unreadable expression. Jim stepped closer and tilted his head, looking at his first officer questioningly with his hands still raised. After a brief pause, the half-Vulcan gave one tight nod, and Jim settled both hands on the man's shoulders. He noted then that Spock's breathing was rapid and shallow, almost to the point of hyperventilation, so he began coaching, "Breath in…hold…breath out…breath in…hold…breath out…" until his friend's respiration rate was closer to normal. To his question of "A little better now?" the half-Vulcan gave a slightly more relaxed nod. Jim dropped one hand and slid the other around to his friend's back as he turned to face the same direction as his first officer and then urged him back to the table.

He briefly wondered, _Does this have something to do with the party? Surely not! _It was time to find out what was going on. He removed his hand from Spock's back and pointed at a chair. "Sit," he commanded, and the half-Vulcan sat down rather heavily. He took a chair next to his friend and said, "Now, talk to me Spock, please. Whatever it is, it can't be that bad; just tell me what's the matter…" he trailed off.

Spock opened his mouth three times before any sound came out. When he finally spoke, he said, "Captain, I have been reconsidering, and I would truly prefer not to attend this party. I will bring Mr. Chekov to the C Deck Recreation Room as agreed, but I would prefer to be permitted to leave at that point. Human social occasions are … uncomfortable for me."

Jim groaned inwardly and thought, _So, it_ is_ the party, after all! I hope this doesn't end up backfiring on me._ Aloud he said, "I'm guessing you haven't been to many things like this, but you know Spock, it's a party. It's not warp core mechanics."

Spock looked back at him solemnly and said, "That is true." He waited a beat before continuing, "Warp core mechanics is easy."

Jim blinked in surprise at his first officer's quip and perfect comedic timing, and he laughed out loud. But he then put a hand up to his mouth and said, "I'm sorry, Spock. I didn't mean to laugh—I'm not trying to make light of this, but damn, that was _funny_!" He hadn't expected Spock to be able to joke when he was under so much stress, but apparently he was wrong. He thought that it was a good sign that the half-Vulcan was experimenting with using humor to defuse a tense situation, just like a human would have.

Spock's expression relaxed and warmed a bit as he replied, "Jim, that was my intent; no apology is necessary." As Jim smiled back at him fondly, Spock turned serious and said, "I know what you meant was the reverse of what I said, but that is, indeed, the case from my perspective."

"So you really, really don't want to go?" Jim asked.

"I truly would prefer not to," Spock replied.

Jim sat considering him for a moment. This was starting to look like a lost cause—it would be counter-productive, he thought, to _order_ Spock to come have fun—but he wasn't quite ready to give up. A sudden inspiration came to him then. He knew that most men have a ten year old boy lurking inside of them, and he wondered if Spock did, too. Well, he'd know in a moment.

Jim looked him straight in the eye and said, "I dare ya."

Spock blinked and then stared back at him in surprise before asking, "Excuse me?"

Jim answered, "You heard me. I dare ya to come."

Eyebrows up to his hairline, Spock said, "I beg your pardon!"

Time to up the ante. Jim responded, "In fact, I _double_ dare ya."

"Jim, such tactics will not w…" Spock got out before the captain interrupted him.

"No, make that I double _dog_ dare ya!"

Moved by some impulse stirring in a deeply buried part of himself, before he could really think about it, Spock abruptly stood up from his chair and with a brief flash in his eyes said, "I accept your challenge!" He sat down again rapidly when he realized what had just happened; he'd responded more like a human boy would have than a mature Vulcan male. And he'd just committed himself to doing something he really did not want to do. How had Jim managed this? He knew the expression on his face was now reflecting his consternation, but he couldn't help it. Jim looked at him with narrowed eyes; apparently thinking there might be further resistance, his captain then said, "Now Spock, don't make me _triple_ dog dare ya."

By the end of this exchange, Spock was realizing that it was all sounding suspiciously familiar, and then he had it. His mother had trotted out the film _A Christmas Story_ every year that his father had been away from Vulcan at the time of that human celebration; he had always watched it with her, officially to just keep her company, but in truth, he had thoroughly enjoyed the film. This was a kind of replay of the scene where one of the boys dares another to try licking a frozen pole to see if his tongue would stick to it. As Jim grinned at him, he wondered if the captain had seen the same film; probably so, as it apparently was going to have the same staying power as Dickens' story _A Christmas Carol_. He sighed internally and then said aloud in a resigned tone, "I now have a new appreciation of Flick's dilemma and his subsequent action," naming the boy who had licked the pole on the dare.

Jim's smile got even bigger, removing any doubt that he recognized the reference, and he laughed as he clapped Spock on the shoulder and said, "Good man! It's settled, then: you're coming to the party."

At that, Spock looked at him quizzically and asked, "Jim, may I ask why it is so important to you that I attend this particular celebration?"

Jim blinked in surprise. Too late, he realized that he should have anticipated Spock's question, but he hadn't. There was now no time to think of a way to say this without sounding like a total sap when the words came out of his mouth, but there was no help for it. Trying not to sound embarrassed, he said gently, "Spock, in a lot of ways, the crew on a starship is like a family. And I, uh …" he paused and then barreled ahead, "and I want you to be a part of this one."

Spock felt his breath catch in his throat as the muscles in his face went slack with shock; his mouth opened slightly, and his eyes widened a tiny amount. He stared at his captain for a moment and then looked down at the table; the man had utterly surprised him once again. He swallowed and then as he raised his eyes to Jim's, he reached out a hand and wrapped his fingers around his captain's forearm resting on the table in front of him. Visibly moved, he blinked a few times, and after a moment he swallowed again before saying simply, "Thank you, Jim." He left his hand where it was for a few seconds longer and then retracted his touch.

As warmth of his first officer's hand spread pleasantly up his arm, Jim felt his breath still and his heart swell as he took in Spock's response. He had been worried that the half-Vulcan would be completely put off by such rampant sentimentality but that had not been the case. Spock had obviously been surprised, but he had also genuinely been moved by his words. And for the first time since they had begun getting close, his friend had actually _initiated_ physical contact with him, something he had not done since their fight on the bridge weeks ago. And there was really no comparison with _that_ event: having Spock lay a friendly hand on his arm was incomparably better than having the man punch him in the face.

The captain found himself positively beaming at his first officer, and he saw Spock's expression become warmer in response as his posture relaxed. They sat for a moment not saying anything, and then in his turn, Jim decided to ask his friend about something that was puzzling him. He said "Spock, you were really wound up there when you first came in; I've never seen you pacing before. Why was talking to me about this so stressful for you?"

Spock tensed visibly, and he found he could not quite meet Jim's eyes as he said, "I did not want to attend this party, but I knew it was important to you that I do so." He paused for a moment before continuing in a murmur, "And I did not want to disappoint you by refusing to attend." Jim's eyes widened in surprise, and he gaped at his first officer, temporarily unable to say a word. The half-Vulcan sat looking down while his brows drew together in a slight frown, and then he said, very softly, "No, that is not quite right; it was more than that." Still looking down, he quietly amended, "I did not want you to be disappointed in me or to think less of me in some way because of my behavior."

At his first officer's quiet admission, Jim felt as if someone had just put a hand inside his chest and squeezed his heart. He reached out then and laid his hand on his friend's back without asking—_Fuck it, this is important!_—and he knew this was alright when he felt Spock relax a tiny bit at the contact. He said, "Oh, Spock, don't you know that while I might be disappointed that you weren't _at_ an event, I wouldn't be disappointed in _you_? And I can't imagine ever thinking less of you over something like that. So please, please, don't worry about that; there are enough _real_ things to worry about as it is."

Spock let out a rather shaky breath and then raised his eyes and blinked. His whole posture relaxed, and Jim felt the tense muscles of his back loosened further. The captain experienced a wave of relief that this one time, anyway, it really _had_ been alright for him to touch his friend without asking, although he didn't plan on making a habit of it. The half-Vulcan's gaze warmed considerably, and there was the teeniest of Vulcan smiles on his face as he said, "Thank you, Jim. I shall cease to let it concern me."

Jim grinned and replied, "That's the spirit!" as he patted Spock on the back a couple of times before lifting his hand.

They sat in companionable silence for a moment, and then Jim asked "So, you meant what you said? Warp core mechanics is easy compared to going to a party?

"Yes. Warp core mechanics obeys strict laws—it is predictable and concrete. A party is a living example of Brownian motion, by definition random and completely unpredictable. I will recognize the names and faces of all the crew members who attend, of course, and I have read all of their files, but I cannot say I really know any of them. I am unaccustomed to interacting with the crew in off-duty situations, and I am uncertain how to engage them in conversation. Additionally, a party requires that I behave in a less reserved manner, and that is … difficult for me."

Jim nodded and answered, "So you feel awkward and out of place and like you don't know what to say to people? Would you like some pointers on what to do?"

"Yes, and yes, that would be helpful. Such behavior seems to come naturally to you." He was quiet a moment, then he said almost shyly, "I watched you at the reception following the ceremony at the Academy after we returned to Earth, which, by the way is one of the very few such occasions that I have ever attended in my life. You did not appear to have any difficulties, so perhaps …" he trailed off and looked into the middle distance, as if slightly embarrassed.

Jim smiled again, mostly because Spock had loosened up enough to accept his advice, but also because his first officer had just admitted to watching him. Now just why that thought should make him smile was something he shied away from examining too closely, as he pushed any such thoughts aside. He felt a blush rising in his face, and to conceal this from Spock, he got up and headed for his desk. With his back to his first officer, he retrieved the fizzy drink beside his data PADD and took a big gulp. Feeling himself back under control, he turned around again and said, "OK, I think I can help you. As hard as this may be to believe, I was once a shy and awkward teenager rather than the suave and debonair person you see before you now," deliberately mispronouncing the words as "swave and deBoner." For emphasis, he burped loudly and then grinned at Spock, who had to pull his lips inward to keep _both_ corners of his mouth from rising by actual millimeters.

After resettling his features into neutral mode, Spock responded dryly, "Ah, it is difficult to express my gratitude for such a fine example of proper decorum." As he intended, Jim laughed again, and the half-Vulcan asked himself, not for the first time, what was it about this man that could make him feel so warm inside and, well frankly, light-hearted—even now, when he was being pushed to do something he normally would never have done? Part of it was that utterly brilliant smile, but that couldn't be the whole story. However, he would have to think about this another time, as he needed to focus on the task at hand: figuring out how to get through this party. Fortunately, Jim was going to help him. Well really, it was the least the man could do, considering that it was because of the captain that he had been roped into going in the first place.

He turned his attention back to his captain then as Jim said, "OK. Pointer number one: remember that everyone there will have had to learn how to interact at parties, just like you. Some of them, in fact, may still be in the early learning stages and will be feeling pretty much as shy and awkward as you."

Spock looked at him in surprise—he'd somehow thought that humans all just took to this sort of thing naturally, with no learning curve involved—and asked, "Is this not something that is innate in humans?"

Jim answered, "Well, we are pretty gregarious by nature, but we still have to learn how to deal with all the different people we run into at big social occasions. I think this is a by-product of the way we live today, surrounded primarily by people who are more-or-less strangers, instead of just relatives and friends. See, for most of our evolutionary history, living in small groups and bands, we would have known everyone around us really well, and we would have been related to most of them. Under those circumstances, a social gathering is just an extension of everyday life—there wouldn't _be_ any strangers in attendance, so there wouldn't be any of that special kind of awkwardness—and everyone can let their hair down and just have a good time."

Spock gave the captain a puzzled glance and opened his mouth as if to say something, but Jim preempted him by saying, "And yes, to answer the question you're about to ask, I don't think fun social gatherings are anything new for humans; I think we've been doing this kind of thing for untold millennia. There's good evidence that we've been cooking over fire for at least a million years ago, when we were still _H. erectus_ and not yet _H._ _sapiens_. You know they finally found animal bones that old at that site in South Africa—Swartkrans, I think it's called—that have both butcher marks _and _burn marks on the same bone, which pretty much proves cooking that far back. And that pretty much guarantees we started lighting fires for warmth and protection long before that. Those ephemeral fires they would have set wouldn't have left any trace in the archaeological record." He paused before resuming his thread. "So anyway, whenever it started, cooking probably meant sitting around the campfire late into the night, dancing or telling stories with friends and relations for a lot of that long time, too. That's what modern hunter-gatherers do, and I don't see why it would have been any different with our ancestors."

The half-Vulcan stared at his captain, surprised by two things. One, that this behavior was likely to be so incredibly ancient, and two, that this was _exactly_ the question he was going to ask, how long this sort of conduct might have been going on. Spock wondered briefly how the man could possibly have known—was he, Spock, that transparent, or was Jim just unusually attuned to him? Here was yet another thing he would have to consider during meditation.

Jim had paused again briefly, and a far-away look now came into his eyes. In a voice tinged with awe, he continued with casual eloquence, "There's really nothing else like it, sitting around a campfire with your friends or family in this little circle of light, surrounded by the kind of deep, dense dark that's impossible in a city or a town, looking up at the black mantle of the night sky spread out above you with all the stars flung wide across it. And despite being out in the vast wilderness, there's an almost indescribable sense of peace and safety that seems to harken back to the very _first_ time we lit a fire and gained protection from the terrors of the night. If you've ever done it, you know that there's an almost magical feeling of _rightness _ about it, as if we've been doing this sort of thing for a very, very long time indeed. And if you haven't done it, you should —it's truly an incredibly special experience."

Marveling briefly that Jim could express himself so well with such ease (and how much literature must he have read to be able to do that—more hidden depths to this man?), Spock felt a shiver go up his spine at his friend's words. Was it perhaps the firelight and the starlight calling across the ages to his buried human self? It was unlike anything he'd done on Vulcan. True, when he was still a child, he had done the _kaswan_, the Vulcan rite of passage where, even in this high-technology civilization, children were expected to survive on their own in the wilderness for several days. But that had not involved cooking _or_ fire, and because of the near-constant haze from the dry desert dust that often shrouded the atmosphere except on the highest mountains, the view of the night sky had largely been obscured. Aloud he merely said, "I have never had that privilege," and the captain thought he sounded a tiny bit wistful.

Jim answered, in much more normal language, "Well, sometime when we have shore leave someplace suitable and we have enough time to go camping, we'll have to remedy that! Maybe Bones would want to come along, too. You'll see, you'll love it; besides having campfires, you get to sleep in the dirt, pee on the ground, wear the same clothes for days on end, eat gritty food, and smell like wood smoke the whole time!"

Spock said dryly, "Now that you have described what is entailed, I cannot wait to share this experience with you."

Jim laughed and replied, "Well, believe it or not, all that stuff _is_ really fun, despite how I just made it sound. And I was exaggerating just a tad: we wouldn't _actually_ be sleeping in the dirt—we'd have camp beds or at least thermal pads and of course, sleeping bags. " Spock said wryly, "I feel so reassured now," while doing his best to look extremely _un_reassured, and Jim chuckled and swatted him on the arm.

The captain then said, "But now back to the matter at hand. Unlike in our past when we knew pretty much everyone around us, we're virtual strangers to so many of the people we're surrounded by, that it can be hard to know how to act and what to say in social situations. Now, with the relatively small community that we have on this ship, you at least have a chance to get to know a fair number of them well. But until you do and can feel comfortable around them, you'll have that shy and awkward phase to get through." He paused for a moment and then continued, "But you know, Uhura will be there, and so will Scotty and Bones. And of course, I'll be there, too. So, you can always come find one of us to talk to if the general party atmosphere gets to be too much. Also, as senior officers, we won't stay all that long, maybe 45 minutes or so, say an hour at most. Then we can head over to the officer's lounge, if we want—we don't have to stop celebrating but we should give the junior officers and the enlisted crew a chance to party down without us being there."

Spock was nodding slowly when the door chime sounded, and Jim said, "What do you want to bet that's Bones?" Without waiting for an answer, he called "Come in," and McCoy walked through the door.

Belatedly Jim turned to Spock and asked in a whispered aside, "OK if he joins us?" Spock nodded assent and for good measure replied very quietly, "Of course, Jim." The captain felt that uplift of his heart again; Spock was willing to sit with him _and_ Bones to talk over his problem. That was very definitely progress, and it solidly confirmed what he already believed, that Spock now considered Bones a friend.

As McCoy looked at them quizzically, Jim said in a more conversational tone, "Hey, Bones; shut the door and come have a seat. Maybe you can add your two cents in here. I was just giving Spock some pointers on interacting with people at big social gatherings; he's going to need it for the party for Chekov. Oh, you know about that, right?"

Bones said, "Yeah, I got the private email invite from Sulu." He then narrowed his eyes at Jim, "So, I see you got Spock to agree to come. How'd you manage that?"

After a quick glance at Spock, Jim replied lightly, "Oh, he's going to be the person who delays Chekov, and I was able to convince him that he just had to come as a result. I told him that given his involvement, the crew would expect it."

The doctor narrowed his eyes a bit further, but he merely said, "Uh, huh," as he thought, _Yeah, right. Maybe sometime I can get Jim to tell me how he _really_ did it._

"Anyway," Jim went on, "I was telling him that pretty much everyone else there has been in his shoes…" here he paused as Spock pushed his chair away from the table.

The half-Vulcan looked pointedly down at his feet, back up at Jim, and with the tiniest of frowns between his eyebrows, asked in a completely serious tone, "Really? I would not have thought that they would all fit."

Jim stared at him for a split second and then threw his head back in helpless laughter, while McCoy guffawed. Spock looked back at them in complete innocence and deadpanned, "What?"

That set off another round of laughter from the two men. When Bones had control of himself again, he said, "I swear, Jim, in this whole galaxy, only _you_ could end up playing straight man to a _Vulcan_!"

"Well, then, if I'm the only one, I think that it should be considered a uniquely _privileged_ position, so there!" Jim replied as he stuck his tongue out at the CMO. When he glanced over at Spock, he saw that the man was looking at him with a small but quite visible smile on his face. As he grinned back, he felt a rush of fondness for his first officer, and despite the fact that Bones was right there with them, he reached toward the half-Vulcan and then paused. Spock straightened his expression and flicked a quick glance toward the doctor, but then he gave a tiny nod, and Jim laid a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it and giving him a gentle shake before releasing him. This was new: Jim had never before touched Spock in front of anyone on the crew. There had perhaps been other people who could have seen him do so in the museum on Arcadia, but those would have been strangers they would never see again. With the crew, it was different; it would definitely be noticed and was likely to cause comment, if the way McCoy had reacted was anything to go on. Plain surprise stamped all over his face, the doctor hadn't even _tried_ not to stare at them, but he kept any comments to himself.

Jim simply ignored Bones reaction. He cleared his throat and got the conversation back on track by saying, "OKaaay, moving right along. So, one thing that worked for me when I was getting socialized like this was to find someone else who looked like they were feeling as awkward as I was. They're usually easy to spot, standing alone around the sidelines of the main action. So you just find one of those people and go up and start talking to them."

Spock digested this and then said, "I understand that this approach worked for you, but I have doubts that it will be successful in my own case. Most of the crew seem genuinely uncomfortable in my presence. I am uncertain how one of them would react were I to walk up and simply initiate conversation."

Jim looked at his first officer in surprise and said, "Wait, what? Is that really how you see it, how you've seen it this whole time, that they seem _uncomfortable_ in your presence?"

Spock nodded and said, "Affirmative."

Jim smiled a bit sadly as he shook his head and said, "Oh, Spock, that's not it, not primarily anyway. Well , maybe it is with some of them, but don't you know that most of them are simply in awe of you?"

Spock whipped his head around to stare at his captain for a moment before blinking and opening his mouth to ask why that should be when Jim continued. "You, sir, flew that ship into the _Narada_! Once you were convinced it would work, you didn't hesitate for a second; you were willing to die to save the rest of us. Hell, I went with you into the _Narada_ and _I_ felt awed over what you did next! So, yeah, that's going to create a certain amount of respect and awe amongst the crew."

Bones spoke up then and said, "As much as I hate to admit it, considering that you _are_ a green-blooded hobgoblin,"—here he smiled fondly at Spock in his turn, conveying quite well that this was really just gentle teasing—"I've got to agree with Jim on this one. That _was_ totally awesome. I don't think I ever thanked you for that, but, well, thanks for saving us all."

Spock flushed and looked down, unused to such frank praise. He resisted twin urges to say, first, that he _hadn't_ been convinced it would work—no, not at all—but he had done it anyway because Jim's conviction that it _would_ had somehow carried them both through; and second, to say that it had been nothing. Once long ago, a very wise person had told him, "When someone gives you a compliment, say 'Thank you,' and then shut-up," and he now followed this advice, simply saying, "Thank you, both of you." He was quiet for a few moments and then said, "It is reassuring to know that the situation is not as I thought." He considered a bit longer before asking, "Do you have some advice on possible topics of conversation, should I approach one of the crew?"

McCoy said, "Well, the time-honored fall-back of 'Lovely weather we're having, isn't it?' won't work on the ship."

Jim laughed and said, "Yeah, somehow 'Aren't the environmental controls working nicely today?' just isn't the same." He thought for a moment and then said, "Well, you could find one of the people who signed on after we got back, and after you've greeted them, ask them how they're adjusting to life on board ship."

The doctor chimed in, "Yeah, that's actually a good idea, Jim," looking surprised, as if he'd expected the captain to spout a nonsensical plan like suggesting the man say something on the order of, "How 'bout them Yankees ?" and hope that the target was a baseball fan.

Jim looked over at him and mock-huffed, "Hey, you don't have to act so surprised! You know perfectly well I'm just full of good ideas!"

Bones and Spock exchanged a skeptical glance and, after a pregnant pause, said in unison, "Of course, Jim," causing the captain to shake his head in mock-dismay and say, "Ya know, I think I liked it better _before_ you guys decided to team up against me," his enormous smile making it perfectly clear that this was the exact opposite of how he really felt.

Bones said, "Ahem, I believe I have the floor. To continue, now that I think about it, it's a _really_ good idea, because those are exactly the folks who are most likely to feel a bit awkward at an event like this. They've almost certainly been to lots of parties in the past, but this is the first time we've done anything like this on the ship, so some of the new crew, especially, will be interacting with each other in a social setting for the first time. Some of them will have run into each other at the mess hall or the rec rooms or other places like that, but this will be a different mix of people, and probably more of them."

Spock nodded and said, "Yes, I can see how this approach might work." He was quiet a moment and then asked, "But, how do I keep the conversation going? What if they simply say, 'Fine' in answer to my initial question?"

Jim pondered a moment before replying, "If they do that, you can ask them what they like best about it. That should get them talking at least a little, and then as they do, that might suggest other questions to ask. And if you pay attention, you can sometimes pick up on something that interests them and get them talking about that." At Spock's slightly puzzled glance, he said, "For instance, say someone says they mostly really like life on the ship, but while they appreciate the swimming pool, they really miss the feel of sand between their toes. So then you can ask them if they had a favorite beach or if they liked swimming in a lake or preferred the ocean, that sort of thing."

Spock nodded again and said, "Thank you for the example; I believe I understand now."

Bones then said, "Another idea is to find someone that you share a common interest with and strike up a conversation about that. You've read all the personnel files, right, and remember everything in them, right?" At Spock's single nod of assent, he continued, "So, you remember what they put down for extra-curricular interests, activities, and hobbies in the section of their application where we try to find out what kind of person they are—don't want any potential axe murderers, after all."

Jim interjected then, "That's not the only reason. One of the courses I took for the command track emphasized knowing stuff like that about the crew—officers and enlisted men alike—to allow us, as officers, to encourage personal interaction among people with mutual interests. It builds camaraderie, and it's a good thing as long as the people involved don't break the fraternization rules."

The doctor nodded agreement and took the floor again. "So Spock, what's one of your interests?" As Spock opened his mouth to reply, he cut in, "And don't say, Languages'; that's _way_ too obvious, since that's what you were teaching at the Academy."

The half-Vulcan thought briefly and replied, "Experimenting with chemical rockets." As Bones and Jim both stared at him in near-shock, he continued, "It is an interest I share with Ensign Allen Westerby," explaining for Bones' benefit, " he is one of the new crew members in Engineering." He went on, "Agreed, it is now an obsolete technology, no longer actively used, but it is still an interesting challenge to make a projectile rise on a column of controlled fire and go where one intends, rather than spin out of control or simply explode." Spock paused very briefly and then said, "Although those occurrences have their attractions, too, as long as no one is injured, and there is no more than minimal property damage."

As he listened to his first officer, Jim's expression had been getting more and more incredulous and somehow, more and more pleased as punch at the same time. Here was plain, hard evidence that the human rambunctiousness he had assured the man was buried in him somewhere under his Vulcan restraint really _was_ there. He would have bet everything he had or ever would have that no _full_ Vulcan would _ever_ express such a sentiment about things going out of control or exploding. Think it they might, but say it? _Never_!

Bones was still staring wordlessly, disbelief at what he was hearing written plainly across his features, so Jim said, "I can't believe that your father would let you experiment with chemical rockets! Those things can be really, really dangerous—I mean blow-up-and-kill-you dangerous!"

Spock gave one of his tiny Vulcan shrugs and replied simply, "My father was not always at home," leaving them to work out the rest.

Jim just chuckled and said, "You know, I'm not as surprised by all this as you might think," and then he winked at Spock, hoping to recall to his mind that time in the museum when he had first mentioned the idea of his first officer's buried human exuberance. He knew he had succeeded when Spock looked back at him with dancing eyes and inclined his head.

The doctor finally found his voice, blinked once and said, "Who'd 'a thunk it? I guess you learn something new every day."

Jim chimed in, "I'll say!" After a short pause, he continued, "So, anyway, think you've got the idea now?"

Spock nodded and answered, "Yes, I believe I do. Many thanks to you both."

The captain said, "Hey, no problem," at the same time that Bones piped up, "You're welcome."

Jim then had another idea. He said, "Say, there'll be alcohol at this party—I mean, that's a big part of the point of the thing, since Chekov will be of legal drinking age. Are Vulcans affected by alcohol the same way that humans are?"

"No, Jim," his first officer replied. "We metabolize alcohol very differently from humans, and this part of my physiology is purely Vulcan. Alcohol will not affect me, no matter how much of it I consume."

Jim sighed, "Well, that's a bit of a pity. Alcohol, for all that it can destroy people if used to excess, can be a good social lubricant, again, if used sensibly in moderation. It lowers inhibitions and makes interactions with strangers less difficult. Too bad there's not something like that we could have for you at the party; I think it would make things easier for you."

Spock was quiet for a moment, thinking whether he should trust Jim with this information (the man could be a bit of a prankster, after all), but then decided that he would. He said, "Chocolate."

At that, Jim looked at him in surprise, blinked, and said, "Excuse me?"

"Chocolate," the half-Vulcan said again, "You could have chocolate at the party." He explained. "Chocolate is an intoxicant for Vulcans. If I do not consume too much…" he trailed off.

Jim grinned at him and answered, "Chocolate it is! I'll be sure and dig up some of the best for you."

Spock replied, "Thank you, Jim. That is kind of you."

Returning to his irascible self, Bones put in, "OK, just be sure you don't over-do it. I don't want to have to deal with a drunk Vulcan at the same time I'm handing out hang-over remedies to humans."

"I assure you, Doctor, I do not intend to consume mass quantities of the substance," leaving unsaid, _Unlike _some_ people would if it affected them the same way it affects me, _ as he gave a very significant glance in the captain's direction. Jim narrowed his eyes at his first officer and said, "Hey, I've never been accused of not being able to hold my chocolate!" causing Bones to snort and just shake his head.

For a moment they were all quiet, and then Jim said suddenly, "Hey, Spock, I've been meaning to ask you, ever since Bones brought up your teaching earlier, when we were talking about personal interests." Spock regarded him gravely as he continued, "You were on the faculty at the Academy, and while I was there, I know they had lots of parties, for the whole faculty and for departments, too—you know, for things like new hires, retirements, and awards and stuff—'cuz I remember seeing the announcements sometimes, and I was constantly seeing catered food being brought in for some occasion or other. So how come this is all so new for you? How did you get out of going to a bunch of those?"

Spock regarded him thoughtfully and then answered, "I was required to attend two such events, the one for all the incoming faculty the year I attained my position at the Academy, and one specifically for new faculty in the Xenolinguistics Department. For the others, I believe I was 'given a pass,' as the saying goes, because of my Vulcan heritage. So, no, I did not take the 'opportunity' to become more familiar with this aspect of human culture. Perhaps, in retrospect, I should have done so, but…" he trailed off and gave another tiny shrug.

Jim nodded and said, "OK, that explains it," while Bones drawled, "Yep, suuure does," somehow managing to convey to the other two men that he wasn't just talking about the faculty parties but also about Spock in general. Jim gave the doctor a bemused look, while his first officer straightened up and put on his most dignified Vulcan face and pretended to be completely aloof and above such petty concerns. Bones shook his head again and briefly dropped his forehead to his palm.

Jim suddenly brightened and said, "But Spock, you know what this means? That you haven't been to a bunch of parties 'n shit before now?" His friend fixed him with an intent stare while giving a tiny shake "No" with his head. The captain continued, a wide smile now splitting his face, "It means that _I_ get to be the one to introduce you to a bunch of cool new stuff! I can't _wait_!"

Now giving Jim an appreciative look while one side of his mouth quirked up minutely, the half-Vulcan replied, "That would be…quite acceptable, Jim." Taken all together, his reaction was the equivalent of "Hey, great! That should be tons of fun!" from pretty much anyone else on the ship.

Spock then said, "Gentlemen, although this has been a most fruitful evening, it is time I was going. I thank you both for your suggestions and your aid."

Bones said, "You're welcome, Spock. See ya round."

Jim added, "Yeah, glad we could help." As his first officer rose, he got up himself to walk with him to the door. Once there, the half-Vulcan stood in front of it but made no immediate move to go any further. The captain looked at his friend questioningly, and seeing the man's still slightly tentative expression, he said, "Spock, it really will be OK—you'll see, you'll do fine." Despite their shared awareness that Bones could see them, he reached toward the half-Vulcan, and the man nodded acceptance. At that, Jim wrapped his arm around his friend's shoulders, and he said, "Remember, Spock, you faced down _Nero_! You can handle a party on the _Enterprise_."

Jim had acted on impulse –this was a greater amount of physical contact than had been normal between them—but if just felt like the right thing to do at that moment. He knew it was alright, too, when Spock relaxed and leaned against him very slightly as he turned his head to look at his captain. At that, Jim's heart gave an odd leap, but he was spared from having to examine the strange feeling that stirred in his chest, as Spock distracted him by saying simply, "Thank you, Jim, that is true; and I shall remember." The captain briefly tightened his arm around those strong shoulders before releasing his friend. He then said, "That's the spirit! G'night, Spock; rest well."

His first officer said, "Good night, Jim." Spock turned part-way round to see Bones blink and try very hard not to look like he had just been staring at them. With perfect Vulcan calm he said, "Good night, Doctor," while Bones, now looking steadily down at the table, managed to choke out, "G'night, Spock." The half-Vulcan looked at Jim, glanced over at the doctor, and then back at Jim before giving a tiny shrug while frowning oh-so-slightly, as if to say, "What's with him?" But his eyes were dancing, and Jim knew he wasn't really upset in any way. He laughed in response and said, "Like they say in some religions, 'It's a mystery, just accept it.'"

With a perfectly straight face, Spock replied, "Sage advice…for a _sapiens_. "

Jim winced at that, and said, "Oooh, and I…don't have a snappy rejoinder right now. Go on, get out of here before I have to admit to Bones that I really _am_ only good for playing the straight man."

Both sides of Spock's mouth rose minutely as he nodded once to his captain and then was out the door. He smiled inwardly to the sounds of McCoy protesting weakly in the background, "Hey, are ya'll talking about me in front of my back?"before the door closed again.

As he headed to his quarters, Spock reflected briefly on the evening—it had been quite fruitful, indeed—and then let his thoughts run to what had happened just before they parted. Jim had more or less just hugged him, something he had never done before, and he, Spock, had responded by leaning against him, not by much, but he was sure the man had noticed.

Now, this had been as much impulse on his part as the almost-hug itself had been on Jim's (although, naturally, he did not know that), but it had felt right, and his human self, at any rate, was glad and had no regrets. His Vulcan self had initially put up some resistance, and was currently experiencing some confusion, but once again, as had happened when he and Jim had apologized to each other a few days previously, the Vulcan had been outvoted when it came to seeking physical connection, and the human had gotten its way. And tonight, the doctor had been watching and had seen him allow Jim to touch him, not once, but twice, and then, even knowing the man's eyes were on them as they stood at the door, he had not been able to resist leaning into that warm contact, when Jim had put his arm around him.

As he walked along, he felt the Vulcan part at least, should be upset at some level by such behavior. But as he thought about it more deeply, he realized with a small internal start that when he examined the incident honestly, that he was not—confused perhaps, but not upset. Was this simply an instance of the Vulcan in him being quiet due to shock, or was that part of him beginning to accept Jim's touch on some level, to find it calming and to actually look forward to it. He was beginning to think the latter, and that brought to mind one thing he _was _certain of, despite all his internal wonderings: there would, indeed, be a next time, and quite likely, many next times. So, he would have an opportunity to observe how his Vulcan self adjusted to this new behavior, this responding to and initiating physical contact with Jim. Yes, he reflected, that was a proper use of his time and worth the energy so spent. Thus able to justify what both parts wanted to do anyway _to_ both parts of himself, he went on his way feeling more confident than he had in some time. He briefly thought of the party facing him in another few days and decided Jim was indeed right: he _would_ be able to get through it. Of course he would: Jim would be there to help him.

* * *

Jim turned to face Bones and walked back to the table. The doctor had dropped the fake outrage and was again staring at him in open amazement, prompting the captain to ask him, "What?" He knew perfectly well why McCoy was staring at him, but he decided to pretend otherwise.

Bones continued staring for a moment then narrowed his eyes at the captain and said, "Don't play dumb with me." At Jim's continued look of confused innocence, he sighed, "OK, have it your way." He gave his friend just long enough to think that was going to be the end of the matter before coming out with, "Jim, is there something going on between you and Spock that I should know about?"

Jim hadn't been expecting that particular question from Bones. He blinked and gave the man a penetrating stare of his own before asking, "What do you mean by that?"

McCoy rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on, Jim. He let you touch him! Twice! In front of me!"

The captain looked back at him and asked, "So?"

Bones almost exploded. "What do you mean, 'So?'?! '_So_,' he's _Vulcan_! The last time I checked, that was _not_ exactly considered normal behavior."

Jim said defensively, "Half. He's only half—he _is_ part human, you know. And besides, I asked his permission!"

The doctor shook his head and replied, "Yeah, I thought maybe that was what was going on with your little pause 'n nod thing. And you know what that tells me?" He didn't wait for an answer. "That tells me you've been doing this for a while, long enough to have established a routine like that. _And_ it looked to me like he actually leaned against you there for a moment at the door."

Jim continued looking defiant and said hotly, "So, what's wrong with it, then, if he rather clearly doesn't mind?"

Bones sighed and answered, "I know he seems fine now, but I think he's still pretty emotionally fragile from, well, you know." He didn't want to bring the memory of that awful day any closer to the surface, so he continued quickly, "And it would be easy for him to become emotionally dependent on you, which might cause him to…" He stopped , never saying what he thought this might cause Spock might do, instead sighing again and finishing with, "I just don't want you to push him further than he's really OK with."

It was the captain's turn to stare at McCoy for a few seconds before saying in an incredulous voice, "Bones! Are you looking out for _Spock_ here?!"

The doctor blinked and answered in an exasperated tone, "Well, duh, genius! Now that I'm _his_ friend, too, I've got to watch out for him, just like I do for you. But don't you _dare_ tell him I said so!" He looked serious daggers at Jim, who rolled his eyes and said, "OK, OK, sheesh!" Bones shook his head and groaned, "Oh jeez, my life is going to be pure hell from now on, isn't it?"

As the import of this exchange sunk in, Jim gazed at him, the odd expression on his face likely mirroring, he thought, the strange feeling he had inside as he considered this new situation: here was Bones, despite his tendency to often sound like a gruff curmudgeon, obviously now caring enough about Spock to want to give him the same kind of loyal support that he 'd been providing Jim since they met. Some people might have had trouble with this, suddenly having to share a friend that they had had to themselves for several years, but even the briefest examination revealed to Jim that this to be actually a very good thing from his perspective, and it gave him a warm, full feeling inside his chest. A slow smile spread across his face, replacing the odd look, and then the captain surprised McCoy by clapping him on the shoulder and saying, "Thanks, Bones. I actually appreciate that, believe it or not. Your heart's in the right place, and I promise not to make things any harder on you than necessary—not on purpose, anyway."

"That's what I'm worried about," McCoy answered with a small growl. He shook his head once more and said, "Well, on that note, I think I'd better go. I feel like I've fallen far enough down the rabbit hole for one night."

"OK, Alice—I mean, Bones. G'night."

McCoy swatted him on the arm and said, "Yeah, well, that either makes you the White Rabbit or the Mad Hatter. You can talk it over with Spock and decide which of you is which. Until then, g'night, whoever you are."

Jim laughed and made a "Shoo-shoo" gesture at his friend as he left the room. He shut the door behind him and turned back to his unfinished work, once again subconsciously grateful for the distraction from thoughts and ideas that he preferred not to examine too closely. After all, he really _did_ need to complete this report and get to bed. Tomorrow would be another day.

* * *

**Author's note:**

Old business first: on reflection, I decided that Jim needed more motivation for the extreme reaction he had to Spock's perceived rejection. So I provided it by adding a little bit to that part of Chapter 5. If you read it before I updated it on June 10th, you'll probably want to read the quoted section at the end of this note, which has the text I added to that part of the previous chapter.

There were a couple of comments on the amber flowers. Those will indeed make a reappearance, but we're a number of chapters away from that (not sure quite how many at this point). I wasn't kidding when I said this would be a slow build. I think, if this were indeed a real relationship between two such real people, that it _would_ be a long drawn-out affair for them to get together as romantic partners. With Spock, in particular, being one of the parties, I just don't see it happening quickly at all.

This next contains a tiny spoiler for the new movie. The bit about the crew on a starship being like a family: believe it or not, I wrote this part a couple of weeks before I saw the new movie (Jim says something kind of like this, but he doesn't say it to Spock). I've been jumping around writing bits as they occur to me, and I've even got some stuff partially written that probably won't appear on this site for weeks or months . The part about family was one of those bits.

About the length of time we've been cooking and the site at Swartkrans: to date, as far as I know, they have yet to find animal bones there from 1 million year ago that have both butcher marks and burn marks on the same bone, just lots of bone with one or the other. But I'm assuming that by the time this story takes place, they will have found some with both.

About fraternization: in today's Navy (and I'm kind of assuming that Starfleet is pretty much the Navy in space), although "appropriate" social interactions are encouraged—and this can include those between officers and enlisted members as well as interactions strictly between officers and those between enlisted members—the kind of relationship that Jim has with Spock would be prohibited. To quote briefly from an online page about the New Navy Fraternization Rules: ""Fraternization" is the term traditionally used to identify personal relationships that contravene the customary bounds of acceptable senior-subordinate relationships. Although it has most commonly been applied to officer-enlisted relationships, fraternization also includes improper relationships and social interaction between officer members as well as between enlisted members." (For more info, see od/navy/a/fraternization. .) But I'm going to change those rules for Starfleet in the 23rd century. I'll go into more of an explanation when we get to that part of the story, but for now I'll just say that while relationships between enlisted folk and officers will still be against the rules, those strictly between officers or between enlisted crew members will be alright.

I've assumed that there will still be baseball in the 23rd century, and I suspect if any of the teams around today make it until then, the Yankees will be one of them. Many apologies to everyone who's a fan of a different team. (Though I confess, I'm not really a fan of any of them, seeing baseball as mostly an excuse to sit outside on warm summer evenings and not mow the lawn.)

You'll have noticed that my version of Bones is not nearly so prickly as the one in TOS—as one reviewer pointed out, there was some real meanness to Spock in TOS from Bones—but I think a less prickly version is fairly in keeping with what I've seen of the one in the reboot series. The new Bones seems like a less abrasive person overall. Of course, my version still likes to grumble, and he'll engage in rather gentle teasing, but he isn't mean. He's had disappointments in life—he's left his beloved daughter behind with his unpleasant ex-wife—but he's still a genuinely a nice guy, and he completely lacks any of the rather obvious xenophobia of the original (i.e. Bones in TOS: "Get your Vulcan hands off me!"), and I like him better for it. And I think with this Bones, that he _would _feel he needed to look after Spock, as well as Jim, if he were actually friends with both of them, as is the case in my story . Another slight spoiler for the new movie: Bones changes his opinion of Spock from what it was at the beginning to a quite different view at the end.

Oh, and most people probably knew this, or figured it out from the context, but just in case: TA = Teaching Assistant. I think Sulu would indeed use this kind of academic jargon because he's still part of that world, with the paper on which he's one of the co-authors and all. Plus, he knows Jim and Bones were just at the Academy, too, and would know perfectly well what he meant.

And now, finally, here's the revised bit from Chapter 5:

Jim saw the tiny motion toward him and felt the ice that had taken up residence in the pit of his stomach start to thaw. While Spock was apologizing to him, he began to see how severely he had been over-reacting, and he also began to feel like an insecure, over-sensitive idiot. Once the fortress of his unreasonable, wounded delusions began to crumble, it collapsed in an instant. Spock was right: he _had_ taken his first officer's actions as a personal rejection, and he realized that this was the primary reason he had then reacted the way he had, coming as it did on top of the overwhelming stress of the Captain's Mast. Beginning with his mother's emotional withdrawal from him early in his childhood, when he began to look like his father (_Damn, how is it _my_ fault that my dad was on the first ship to run into the _Narada?!) and continuing through the years until he enrolled in the Academy, he had experienced serious rejection so often in his life that he had become hyper-sensitive to it. The casual rejection from strangers (mostly women) that he tried to pick up in bars was not a problem; in those situations, he always told himself there was something better just around the corner. But, with the exception of Bones, he had been rejected or abandoned by all the important people in his life, the ones he truly cared about—his mother, his brother, childhood friends, every girlfriend he had ever had save one—and it had left him emotionally scarred.

So he was conditioned to react strongly to what he perceived to be yet another rejection. But now he saw how wrong he had been about Spock: his first officer was most emphatically _not_ like all of those other people who had abandoned him after a time. Of _course_ Spock had just needed his personal space at that moment after the Captain's Mast; he hadn't been rejecting Jim but rather had been protecting himself.

The rest is the same, after that.

Thanks for reading!

—WolfLibre


	7. Entr'acte, ptie 1

Chapter 7: Entr'acte, ptie 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own nuttin', not no way, not no how.**

* * *

Nyota stepped off the transporter pad and breathed a sigh of relief: it was good to be home. She had been happy to help the X'Chi!di refugees—it had been interesting and she was glad of the opportunity to help people in real need—but the work had also been difficult and exhausting. She was glad to just go back to being a communications officer instead of having to function as a translator, base administration liaison, and more-or-less surrogate mother for a group of 27 overwhelmed people. Well, they were now safely in the hands of the newly-arrived translator from their colony, and she didn't have to worry over them anymore. She had been able to rest on the _Benjamin Banneker_ during the 32 hour journey from the base to the rendezvous point with the _Enterprise_, but she was still quite tired and was looking forward to relaxing among her friends.

She went to her quarters to drop off her duffle bag and then headed to the med bay for her obligatory health check-up. The new respiratory infection that had struck the star base and the _Enterprise_ was now completely under control, but the base was a veritable stew pot of potential disease, and she needed to be checked thoroughly to make sure she wasn't about to be the vector that introduced one of those to the crew. When she passed other crew members in the corridors, she noticed that some people were giving her strange looks as she made her way to the medical facilities. Was there something wrong with her uniform or some other problem with her appearance, she wondered? She ducked into the nearest head to check, but as far as she could see, there was no problem with the way she looked. Perhaps because of where she was going, given its natural associations with illness, she started wondering if people were worried that she had brought some other new disease back with her from the base. She shrugged it off and proceeded to the med bay.

When Nyota arrived, Dr. McCoy was involved in surgery on a crew member who had been injured in an accident in the cargo bay, so it was Nurse Lousin Lupian who took her through the check-up. Nurse Lupian was one of the new med staff personnel; as a nurse-practitioner certified in acute care, adult health, and clinical xenomedicine, she was perfectly qualified to perform the exam. After the standard exam and specialized tests to check for known diseases from the base and to look for any sign of unusual immune response, she gave Nyota a clean bill of health, but noting her lingering exhaustion, recommended that she not return to duty until the following day. By this time, McCoy was out of the operating theater and after taking one look at her wan features, changed the nurse's recommendation to an order—the CMO trumped even the captain in this regard. He agreed that she could go to her scheduled debriefing with the commander, but after that, she was not to do any work until the following day.

As Nyota was about to leave the med bay, she ran into Nurse Christine Chapel. The two women had become good friends, and they had missed each other. Chapel was off duty at the end of second watch, and they arranged to meet at 1610 in one of the coffee bars so that they could visit and fill each other in on news, both ship-wide and personal.

Nyota then headed for the ready room for a short debriefing session with the first officer. When she arrived, the captain was there, too, and they both greeted her warmly. She gave Spock her verbal report, answered some questions, and told him to expect her written report later in the week. Spock seemed completely normal, and there was nothing unusual about the interactions between the two men, but once she noticed that the captain was looking at her oddly. After a moment, he seemed to recover himself, and his face smoothed out into normal-captain mode. The strange look hadn't lasted long, but she definitely hadn't imagined it, and she wondered if it was caused by the same thing that seemed to be drawing her unwanted attention from some of her shipmates. She almost asked him about it but decided not to, thinking that whatever was bothering the captain would come up at some point if it were important. Her debriefing completed, Spock dismissed her and told her to follow the CMO's orders and get some rest.

Uhura rested in her quarters until it was time to meet Christine. On the way to the coffee bar, she garnered some more odd looks—what was going on, she wondered? Maybe her friend would have some idea what was up. The two women talked for a while, catching up, when Nyota asked suddenly, "Christine, are people really worried about diseases coming back with me from the star base? I've been getting a bunch of strange looks…" she trailed off.

Her friend looked at her and said, "Well, there's probably some of that—I think that respiratory bug kind of shook everybody up, even though it ultimately wasn't that bad—but I think it's more likely that people are wondering if they should ask you if you know any details of what happened between the captain and Mr. Spock."

Nyota stared at her and asked, "What are you talking about, Chris?"

Christine paled slightly and grimaced while saying uncomfortably, "Oooh, gosh, I just assumed Mr. Spock would have told you, but I'm guessing from your reaction that you don't know anything about that at all." She stopped talking abruptly.

Taking in her friend's look and tone of voice, Nyota was fairly certain that "what happened" was not a good thing, but instead had been a bad thing. She then remembered Kirk's strange look at her debriefing, and suddenly "fairly certain" became "absolutely certain." With a physical start, Nyota abruptly recalled a personal email she'd received while she was at the base—one of a very few, as by and large, her shipmates had known she was almost as overwhelmed as her 27 charges—which had asked cryptically, "Do you know anything?" To her return question of, "About what?" the reply came back, "Oh, sorry! My mistake, never mind!" That was the entire exchange. She had been far too busy at the time to worry about what it all meant, and it had dropped out of her awareness. But it now came rushing back with Christine's words, and she thought she now knew the answer to her own question, if not her shipmate's.

Her face became grim and she said, "Tell me," in a clipped tone.

The nurse answered, "Well, first I want to say that I think things are fine between them now, so I don't want you thinking this is still a problem." Nyota lost a little of her grim look as Christine continued, "But, there were a few days while you were away when they weren't speaking to each other except when they were both on the bridge. Nobody seems to know anything about why or what, though, not even Dr. McCoy, and he and the captain have been best friends since they were at the Academy. You didn't even know about it, and I can't imagine that Mr. Spock would talk to anyone else, so that means we're all in the dark."

Christine shook her head and went on, "Boy, I sure didn't know Vulcans could look so sad." She was looking down and didn't see Nyota's shocked stare. She was quiet for a beat and then continued her account. "I was going one direction on B Deck and Mr. Spock was coming from the other, and about half-way between us there were two crew members laughing so hard about something that they were hanging on to each other for support. He was utterly riveted on them…" She looked up as she said, "You know, staring at them with that look of complete concentration that only he can have—and so I don't think he even saw me." The nurse looked down again. "But anyway, before they noticed him and straightened up to salute, about the saddest expression I've ever seen on _anyone_ flashed across his face. It was gone in a split second, but it was definitely there. I'm telling you, Nyota, it about broke my heart to see that. I really just wanted to scoop him up in a big sisterly hug, but of course, I couldn't, and on top of that, I had to pretend I hadn't seen anything at all. But at least, I really don't think he knew I saw that look on his face—gosh, I sure hope not, I wouldn't embarrass him for the world—'cuz he looked completely normal when we passed. And I've gotten _really_ good at putting on a poker face myself, thanks to those weekly card games…" She looked up then and noticed the thunderous look on her friend's face, and after a moment's awkward silence, she said, "Umm, I probably shouldn't have told you about his looking sad…"

Nyota made an effort to soften her expression—she wasn't angry at Christine, after all—then she sighed and said, "No, I'm glad you did; I need to know what I'm dealing with here."

Christine said hastily, "Like I said, I'm sure they're over it, whatever it was…"

Nyota interrupted, "OK, that's good, I guess…but the fact that it happened at all…" She blinked back a tear. She was sure that whatever had gone wrong must have been Kirk's fault, and, knowing, as she did, that the two men had been becoming close, her heart ached at the thought of Spock having to endure the sudden (though apparently temporary) loss of a friendship which had quickly become very important to him. Once again in control of herself, she looked at Christine and, seeing the woman's troubled expression, put a hand on her shoulder and said, "Chris, please don't feel bad. I really needed to know this, and I'm glad I heard about it from you, before someone else actually asked me and I had to say that I didn't know anything about it. Now, I can just say that it's a private matter between Kirk and Spock, if anyone asks."

"And are _you_ going to leave this as a 'private matter' between them?" her friend asked.

Her grim look returning, Nyota answered, "I'll talk to Spock first, but I'm pretty sure I'll be talking to Kirk, too."

Christine replied, "OK." She paused a moment and added, "But if you do talk to the captain, try not to be too hard on him, OK? Mr. Spock seems to have gotten past it, whatever it was, because they seem quite friendly now. And I actually know that, it's not just rumor; I've seen them myself in the mess hall." At her friend's dubious look, she added, reasonably, "And from what I've seen on this voyage, the captain really is a good man. He tries his best, but he just makes mistakes sometimes, like anyone would."

Nyota thought, _Oh, but this _isn't_ just a mistake like any other; to do something to hurt _Spock_, of all people!_,before bringing her attention back to her friend, to nod and say, "I'll try, but I just…" She paused looking for words, finally coming out with, "I'm very protective of Spock because of everything he's been through and because he doesn't really have anyone else to watch his back."

"Well, I'm glad you're looking out for him, Nyota; he does need _someone_ doing that," Christine replied, not yet aware of the budding friendship between her boss and the commander. She looked at her watch then and said, "Oh, gosh, Nyota, sorry but I have to run." The two women stood and started toward the exit. Christine continued, "I'm supposed to meet Scotty, to, uh…get some tips for my, uh…poker game. I've got the face down, but I could use some help with everything else."

Nyota's face split with a wide grin, and Christine blushed a very pretty shade of pink that perfectly complimented her blond hair and vivid blue eyes. Uhura waggled her eyebrows and smirked at her. Christine swatted her friend on the arm and said, "Stop that! It isn't like that…"

To which Nyota answered, "Well, I think you could probably change that anytime you wanted to," and Christine's blush deepened. The communications officer nodded in approval and said, "And Chris, Scotty really _is_ a good man."

"So is the one we were talking about earlier!" Christine replied.

Nyota rolled her eyes and shook her head slightly while thinking privately, _I want to think that might be so, but that remains to be seen_. They waved to each other, going off in opposite directions down the corridor.

Once she was alone, Nyota queried her communicator for the location of Commander Spock. Second watch had ended an hour previously, and he was in one of the science labs, so she headed off to see him there. On the way, she was stopped once by a curious shipmate, and she was suddenly _very_ glad that Christine had filled her in. She'd have to let Christine know so her friend would stop feeling guilty about having told her. It would be about the best way that she could think of to thank the woman.

When she found him in the lab's labyrinthine interior, Nyota said, "Commander Spock, may I speak with you," and then at his questioning look added, "Privately?"

Spock said, "This way, Lieutenant Uhura," as he led her to the small conference room attached to the lab. Her request for a private conversation, along with her compressed lips and dark expression, gave him an inkling of what was coming, but he kept his expression neutral and tried not to betray the apprehension that was building in him. Although it was _possible_ that she was upset about something other than his "disagreement" with Jim, he calculated there was a 98.6% certainty that this was not the case. (Hmm, was it just coincidence that the percentage was the same number as normal human body temperature? Best put that aside for now.)

He ushered her into the room and closed the door behind them. He turned to face her and stood with his hands clasped together behind his back and waited for her to speak.

Nyota crossed her arms over her chest and came straight to the point. "Spock, what happened between you and Captain Kirk while I was away?"

Even though he had been expecting her to say something like this, the half-Vulcan still winced inwardly when he actually heard it. He had hoped there would be no need to have this conversation with Nyota, hoped that somehow she might never find out about that little incident, but of course she had. Even knowing it was almost certainly futile, he decided to bluff anyway, hoping to forestall her. It wasn't at all logical, but there was a slight, oh-so-slight chance that it would work, and even if it didn't, it would at least buy him some time. His mouth was suddenly very dry, but he somehow managed to swallow, and he asked her, "Why do you think something happened?"

Unknowingly copying Bones' words and expression when he was talking to Jim the other night, she rolled her eyes and said, "Oh, come on, Spock! Did you really think you guys could stop speaking to each other for a few days and no one would _notice_?! Or that they wouldn't gossip about it? You've lived around humans long enough to know _that_!"

He had to admit she was right—he _had_ known that—but somehow he had convinced himself that this time might be the exception to the rule, or if it was not, then he thought/hoped people would have completely moved on to other topics by the time she got back. But that hadn't happened, either.

She went on, "Or did you think I just wouldn't hear about it when I got back?" She sighed and shook her head. "I'd been getting really strange looks pretty much since I stepped off the transporter pad, so I asked a friend why that might be, and this person told me it was probably because some of my shipmates were wondering if they should ask me about what happened between you and the captain, just assuming that I would know. Then, of course, what little this person knew came out, which is fortunate because, as a result, I wasn't caught unawares when someone actually did ask me."

Under normal circumstances, Spock would have been curious as to just what Nyota had been told, but today he was much too distracted thinking about what _he_ was going to say to her to worry about what someone else had said. He looked down, finding that he couldn't meet her gaze. He almost-sighed before saying, "We had a misunderstanding, which was entirely my fault, but we discussed the cause of our difficulty, and we resolved the problem between us."

While he was speaking, a fleeting expression of searing pain crossed his face before his features closed in again. It was so brief that she would have missed it had she not been watching his face very intently, and she simultaneously felt her heart breaking for him and her blood boiling toward the person who had done this to him. When he looked up at her, his expression was once again tightly controlled, having pasted on his best neutral, this-matter-is-closed Vulcan face, the one that did not invite any further enquiry.

She narrowed her eyes at him, recognizing from his look that she was very unlikely to get any more information from him on the subject. Listening to his brief account, Nyota had wanted to scream with rage, but she wasn't angry at Spock—no, she needed to save that for its proper target—so she had forced her features into a more neutral mould. Even without that brief, revealing expression on his face, his blank refusal to tell her anything about the incident actually told her quite a lot, and together they confirmed what Christine had understood from seeing that one unguarded moment in the corridor: the rift with Kirk had been pure hell for him emotionally. Her voice took on a quality of deadly calm as she replied, "Somehow, I doubt very much that it was your fault in any way, shape, or form." He opened his mouth to protest, but she silenced him with a look. She made her decision about talking to Kirk. She paused, tapping her foot, as she uncrossed and then re-crossed her arms. Then she said, "When I talk to Kirk, what is he going to say?"

Spock gave her a sharp look at her unadorned use if the captain's surname, but any consideration of this was quickly swept aside as he took in what she was saying: she was going to talk to Jim. This could not be good; he was certain the encounter would not end well. He knew his small but clear expression was reflecting the genuine alarm he felt, but once again, it was beyond his ability to completely control it. (Why was it almost _always_ something to do with Jim Kirk, these times when he was unable to keep his face under its normal tight control?) But beyond what she might_ say_, there was the very real question of what she might _do_—she might look delicate, but she was actually quite strong. He said urgently, "Nyota, please, do not speak with Jim about this matter." Her eyebrows shot up at the use of the captain's first name, but she said nothing. He continued, unknowingly using many of the same words as she had when she was speaking to her curious shipmate, saying, "It is a private matter between the captain and me, and it has been resolved." He set his mouth into a thin line to emphasize the point.

She sighed and said, "Spock, I'm sorry, but I have to talk to him. I agree, it can remain a 'private matter' in that I won't try to force any details of your…'misunderstanding'… out of him—if you'd wanted me to know, you would have told me, and I respect that—but I _have _to tell him that he just can't do this to you…he just _can't_!" She had to blink rapidly a few times, thinking of the loyalty of this man to a person she was not at all sure could be trusted. At his tiny bleak expression—she could still read him very well—her own face softened. She uncrossed her arms from her chest and, laying a hand on his shoulder, said, "Don't worry, Spock. I won't kill him—this time…" She dropped her hand, suddenly looking very angry again, and she said, "But if he _ever_ does anything like this again…" she briefly curled one hand into a fist as she finished, "I won't guarantee I'll be responsible for my actions."

Spock did protest then, saying, "Nyota, please; this anger you feel toward Jim is unjustified. I have explained to you that the problem was my fault…"

She interrupted then. "Spock, I simply don't believe you. Your repeating it isn't going to make me believe it, and it's _not_ going to make me change my mind about talking to him."

He almost-sighed again, recognizing defeat. He looked at her a long moment before finally saying, "Although I disagree with your proposed course of action, I recognize that you are acting out of concern for me." He paused briefly and then said, "Thank you, Nyota," as one corner of his mouth rose a minute amount.

At that, she let out a long breath, and a lot of the tension she had been holding inside let go at the same time. She managed a rather weak smile and replied, "You're welcome. You've got to have _someone_ who looks out for you, after all." She patted his arm. "And now I'd better let you get back to what you were doing. Thanks for taking the time to talk to me."

He inclined his head, saying, "You may come talk with me anytime, Nyota," and she knew he meant it.

Just before they left the privacy of the conference room, Spock asked, "Are you going to talk to him now?"

Nyota nodded and said, "If I can, but if not now, then as soon as possible."

He looked at her solemnly and replied, "Please keep your word that you will not kill him?" making it a slight question. She hesitated to show that she really did have to think about this, but then she nodded. He almost-sighed once again and said, "That will have to suffice."

As they stood outside the door to the conference room, they nodded their farewells, once more formally calling each other "Lieutenant" and "Commander," there now being the possibility of public scrutiny. Here they parted ways, as his next destination in the lab was in the opposite direction from the exit, and she knew her way out.

* * *

_OK. One down, one to go,_ Nyota thought as she again consulted her communicator. Hmmm; Kirk was in his quarters. She pondered. Should she call him on his communicator and give him the choice of talking to her there or meeting her somewhere else, like the captain's ready room? It didn't take her long to figure it out: offer no choice, confront him in his quarters. This was, she knew, a completely personal matter—if it had been some serious disagreement over something to do with the ship or with some aspect of their mission, there would have been reports out the wazoo, and there were no reports on this what-so-ever—so she not only felt justified in her decision, she felt it really was the proper place for this conversation. She squared her shoulders and started for the turbolift.

When she got to Kirk's door, Nyota didn't hesitate. She pushed the door chime with unnecessary force, even though she knew this wouldn't affect the sound he heard on his end, and then she waited impatiently for him to answer. After a delay of almost 30 seconds, the door swooshed open to reveal a slightly bleary-eyed captain sporting a distinctly rumpled uniform. She couldn't help but feel a bit smug as she thought, _Well, good! I've apparently caught you at a disadvantage_. As he stood blinking at her, she asked in a terse official-communications-officer voice, "Permission to enter…Sir?" putting a strong emphasis on the last word, which together with the pause, made it clear that she added it with great reluctance.

Jim took in her near-murderous look, and he knew immediately why she was there. He very badly wanted to say, "Permission denied," but he stood back and wordlessly gestured her in anyway. He then said in as commanding a tone as he could manage, given his just-woke-up state now combing with a growing feeling of alarm, "Over here," pointing her to one of the four chairs pulled up around a conference table. This area of his quarters, separate from his bedroom and the small bath, also housed a cluster of two easy chairs along with a couch and a low table, a desk and an office chair, a computer, and a small bookshelf. He had not asked for this extra space or the furniture and equipment that filled it, they had come with the ship. It was one of the perks of the job, but it made kind of logical sense in that it provided a place for him to talk more informally with important visitors (a nice change from the sterility of the official conference rooms), or to work from here if he so chose, including having the ability to meet with small numbers of his senior staff if need be. A captain is never off duty—he can be on the bridge any time he wants (in addition to the times he absolutely must be there) or anywhere else on the ship at any time (except when he would logically need to be on the bridge, etc.).

Although he almost always worked in the captain's ready room—he liked the home-like feel of his quarters and didn't want to change this by working there too often—but it was just good to have the option of working from here if he wanted. At least, this was usually the case. The downside was that it made this confrontation possible in his quarters, when without it, he would have had an excuse to move the, err…meeting…elsewhere. But then again, maybe it was best to be right here in any case, since he was in a place where he could just fall apart afterward if he needed to. For reasons he had yet to fathom, his own normally very tight control over some of his more negative emotions was likely to slip in matters regarding his first officer, and if she was really as incandescently furious as she appeared…

She took one of the chairs, crossed her arms over her chest, and sat glowering at him. Moving warily, he eased himself into the chair at his desk, as this allowed him to put the conference table between them, as well as putting him a bit further away from her. It wasn't much, but it helped. He waited for her to begin.

She spat out, "Permission to speak freely…Sir?"

That again. He knew he should object and call her on it, but he suddenly found himself just too…weary to react, besides which he thought he deserved any scorn she felt like heaping upon him. Spock had completely forgiven him so readily, and he wasn't sure if he really deserved that steady loyalty, that he was feeling somewhat guilty. None-the-less, he wasn't looking forward to the dressing down he knew was in store for him, plus it was yet _more_ of the personal-conflict-type awfulness that he generally avoided at all costs, and for a moment, he thought seriously of saying, "Permission denied." But instead he forced out of a reluctant throat, "Permission granted." There, he'd said it. And then he _knew_—absolutely, 100% _knew_—that it wouldn't have mattered _what _he'd said in response to her request, she was going to blast into him in any case. And he knew he richly deserved it.

She did not disappoint. Nyota uncrossed her arms and leveled a menacing finger at his chest. She glared at him, saying in a bitterly angry tone, with no preamble, "Do you have any idea," her voice rising briefly to a near shout, "_any idea at all_ how much you hurt him?"

Anything Jim had thought to say simply fled from his mind. Before she actually spoke, he had planned to say something along the lines of, "It was all my fault and it won't happen again." But her blunt question made the first part irrelevant—they were clearly in agreement on whose fault it was—and additionally, made the second part sound glibly trite and shallow at best, or insincere and shallow at worst. He had _known_ that he had hurt his friend very badly, but to hear someone _else_ say it brought it home in a new way. He felt very near to tears, but he was absolutely determined not to let her see him cry. He wondered again what was the matter with him, why he became so very emotional whenever he thought about his falling out with Spock. Until this recent incident with his first officer, he hadn't cried about _anything _since he was a child. But he couldn't think about that now, what this might mean; he had to deal with the very angry woman sitting in front of him.

For a few moments, he was unable to say anything at all as he considered her question. He bowed his head, and when he was finally able to speak, he gulped in a softly miserable voice, "Yes, I do."

She narrowed her eyes at him and challenged, "Oh, yeah? Tell me, then; tell me how you know." She wasn't asking for any details of their dispute, whatever it had been; she just wanted confirmation that he did, indeed, _know_ what he'd done. After a slight pause, she added furiously, "Because _I_ want to know if there's any hope at all that you can be trusted to refrain from doing something like this in the future."

He sat for a long moment trying to decide how to answer. He didn't think it would be a good idea at all to tell Nyota about the awful revelation from Spock that removed any doubt as to the depth of his transgression, but then he looked up at her and found himself doing just exactly that. One moment he was going to keep it strictly to himself and the next, he was telling her something that he had never meant to reveal to _anyone, _least of all _her_. (Well, he _had _ told Bones, but he hadn't actually meant to—the information had simply spilled out of him.)

As if someone else were controlling his voice, he heard himself say, "He told me he was about to request a transfer." He couldn't look at her—it was hard enough to just relate the incident, and he didn't have the additional strength to watch her reaction to it—so he fastened his gaze on the floor in front of him as he continued, haltingly, "It was a couple of days after we'd patched things up between us, and we were talking over a crew member's transfer request that, uh…that just said "Personal reasons" for the justification, which, umm…is usually code for a relationship that, uh…that didn't work out. I couldn't see this as a serious reason for granting the transfer request, and because I didn't want to lose this person, I was inclined to deny it."

He didn't look up, but he could feel her eyes burning holes in the top of his head. He somehow continued, "But then, Spock, uh…Spock started arguing the crewman's side. This wasn't what I expected, so I, umm…said something stupid, like, 'You sound like you're speaking from personal experience'…" He had to pause and take a number of deep breaths as he regained a measure of control—no, he was _not_ going to cry in front of her—and finally went on, "Then he didn't say anything at all, just fixed me with a look that went straight through me."

He paused as the memory came rushing back before he said, "I don't think he meant to look at me like that, more like thinking about it just overwhelmed him and he couldn't help it. 'Cuz even after that, he wasn't going to tell me, so I had to drag it out of him, and somehow, that made it much worse when he finally _did _tell me…" He faltered, recalling that conversation. After that look from Spock, Jim had felt compelled to find out what was behind it, so he had actively pulled the damning information out of his first officer himself. The process had been gut-wrenchingly difficult and the revelations incredibly painful to hear. But as he remembered, he felt, paradoxically, an odd sort of growing inner strength at a sudden realization. Despite his unhappily established pattern of avoiding personally contentious situations rather than face them, he had, in the space of a few weeks, actually taken the initiative to resolve two such problems. And both of these occasions had involved his first officer: once when he had apologized for his behavior during the _Narada_ incident, and then again during their conversation about transfers, and he hadn't taken the easy way out, hadn't let important things remain unknown and unsaid. In between, there had been his very serious lapse—it had been Spock who had taken the initiative and started the difficult conversation that led to their repairing their friendship—but still, that made it twice that he had squarely resolved a personal conflict with the same person. Did this, too, mean something? He'd have to consider it later.

His thoughts completed in brief seconds, the captain bought his attention back to the woman glaring at him from the far side of the conference table. Unfortunately, the strength he'd found to face difficult personal matters with Spock didn't seem to be helping him much now, but there was no ducking what was coming, and there was nothing for it but to see it through. He was grateful he was sitting down, because he didn't think his legs would hold him. He stole a glance at Nyota's face but quickly looked down; he gulped again and paused briefly while he fought down tears, but he managed to say in an almost normal tone, "He…he, uh…told me that he was within about a day of asking for a transfer, but he decided to come talk to me first…" he ground to a halt and continued looking miserably down at the floor.

Nyota stared at him, stunned. She wasn't sure what she had been expecting him to say, but it certainly wasn't this. It took some moments for her to absorb the various implications of what he'd just said. When she was finally ready to speak, in a very quiet voice that was still somehow laced with deadly anger, she began, "You…you made _him_ come talk to _you_ to resolve a problem that _you_ caused?" He was unable to say anything or look at her, so he just nodded.

By now, she had worked through it all to focus on the worst possible conclusion. She said bluntly, "And if that hadn't worked, or if he hadn't decided it was worth a try talking to you in the first place, he might already be off this ship?"

Jim hesitated; should he defend himself? He now knew her last accusation wasn't true. He would, in fact, have turned the situation around—_if_, he had to acknowledge, _if_ his first officer would have been willing to give their friendship another try, after it would have appeared that things were past the point of no return—but he had not yet come to that particular realization when Spock was in the ready room that night. So there was that to consider, but the more salient point was that, as he thought about it, he had a strong and growing conviction that it would not be a good idea to say anything in his own defense right at that moment. It would sound like lame justification and seemed likely to infuriate her further rather than calm her into reasonableness.

So instead, he nodded again, feeling physically ill once more over what he'd done. All he could do now was sit with Uhura while the full implication of all this sank in to her, while he waited for what was surely coming.

And it didn't take long for that full implication to hit her: Spock had felt so desperate to be away from Kirk, that he was willing to leave her—as far as she knew, still his only real friend in the entire galaxy—to leave her and all that was familiar on the _Enterprise_ behind.

She sat for several long minutes with her jaws clenched together while she glared into the middle distance. As the silence stretched between them uncomfortably, he finally looked up. Seeing his movement, she then shifted her gaze to his face and fixed him with a ridged stare as she bared her teeth at him and balled up her hands. Suddenly, she shot up out of her seat and stood shaking one fist at him while she gritted her teeth and made a growling noise in her throat.

He flinched from the rage he saw building within her, but he still said, as evenly as he could manage, "Go ahead and hit me. I think it would make us both feel better."

She continued to stare at him while she was starting to shake from the adrenaline now coursing through her system. With a roar, she abruptly spun around and screamed, "You son of a BITCH!" as she punched the back of her chair instead of his face. The chair flew across the room and smacked into the opposite wall with a loud bang. She turned around and strode over to where he was sitting. Breathing heavily, she stood looking at him for a few moments with something close to raw hatred. Then she growled again as she shook her fist in his face before spinning on her heal and storming out of his quarters.

Stumbling from suddenly very blurry vision, Jim haltingly made his way to the door and activated the "Do Not Disturb Except in Case of Emergency" control. He then somehow made it into his bedroom and he shut that door, too, before collapsing on the bed and once more giving way to his feelings.

* * *

Nyota's adrenalated energy carried her back to her quarters in mere seconds. Once inside, she tried to sit but her mind was in a whirl over what she had learned from Kirk, and she was up and pacing within a short time. She had been at it about 10 minutes, and her adrenaline level was receding, when she stopped in her tracks, realization dawning on her that she had really gone too far. True, she hadn't actually _hit_ Kirk, but she had come very close. And she had stood over him in a threatening manner. That was _not_ behavior that was acceptable from a Starfleet officer toward one's captain. He would almost certainly write her up for this, and she supposed if he wanted to push things, she could be up for court-martial. Oh, well; what was done was done. There was nothing she could do to fix the situation; all she could do was to wait and see what, if anything, Kirk did next.

Now that she had started to calm down, she also noticed that her hand had begun to hurt, and hurt badly. She stopped to look at it. The big knuckle on her middle finger was red and swollen—apparently, that part of her fist had connected with the frame of the chair and not just the soft padding. She hadn't noticed at the time, beyond a brief awareness of increased pressure on that part of her hand, but it was now getting to the point where she needed to have someone look at the injury pretty quickly. She was also beginning to feel sheepish at what she had done—she wasn't normally given to violence, but then, this wasn't a normal situation—but she couldn't let that stop her from getting it attended to.

With a sigh, she left her quarters and headed for the med bay. Second watch had ended some time ago, and Christine would be off duty, so there was a strong possibility she would end up seeing Dr. McCoy. But maybe she would be lucky and it would be one of the other doctors who might not ask the same kind of probing questions that she knew would come from McCoy.

But darn, no such luck—there was Bones, right in the waiting area, having just finished giving a crewman final instructions on using a piece of medical equipment. The man thanked him and then left them alone as the doctor's eyes fastened on her injured knuckle. He moved over to her, took a brief look at her hand, and led her to an exam room. Once there, he picked up her hand to inspect it, waving a tricorder over it. He had feared that there might be some kind of confrontation between the communications officer and the captain when she returned to the ship. So now, noting the type of damage, as well as the fact that her entire explanation for how it had happened was, "I, umm…hit it on something," he looked at her slightly askance and drawled mildly, "Well, since Jim isn't in here with a broken nose or _something_, I'm guessing you didn't hit him in the face."

She blinked and colored at his perceptiveness, replying, "I hit a chair instead…but for a moment there, it was a near thing." She winced as her knuckle protested the examination. To help distract herself, she explained further, "I think I hit the frame accidentally…" she trailed off.

He raised an eyebrow at her but refrained from saying anything else until he had finished examining and then treating the injury. At that point he said, "OK, Lieutenant, just go easy with it for the next couple of days—and try not to do that again," looking at her sternly.

She returned his gaze sheepishly and replied, "I'll try." She paused and said, "Dr. McCoy, I, umm…I." She paused again and then said in a rush, "I'm kind of afraid I, uh…went too far. I didn't actually hit him—I _really_ wanted to—but I didn't, but, umm…I still think he'll write me up, at the very least. I think this falls pretty squarely under 'not respecting the chain of command'." Suddenly looking very worried and sad, she muttered, "If that happens, I don't know what I'll say to Spock. I think, even though I was defending him, that he'd be pretty disappointed in my behavior…" she looked down and trailed off.

The doctor noted that she seemed to be less concerned about possibly being written up—or worse—than about Spock's potential reaction to it—go figure. He shook his head and replied, "Well, I can't speak for the commander, but I _can_ tell you what Jim will do, or rather, what he _won't_ do. He's not going to write you up for this; I can guarantee _that_. Hell, I don't think he would write you up even if you _had_ hit him." Nyota's head snapped up at that, and he continued, "He genuinely feels awful about having hurt Spock like he did, and I don't think there's much of anything that you could do to him, short of outright killing him, that would get you into trouble with him over your reaction. And come to think of it, if you _did_ kill him, you'd be in trouble with _other_ people, but not him, because he'd be dead."

Nyota had to smile a little at the absurdity of this statement, which was Bones' intent. She replied, "Thanks, Doctor. I guess I'll try not to worry about it, then." She paused for a beat and then said, "And Doctor? Thanks for not fussing at me."

"Hey, you're welcome. Sometimes a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do."

Nyota nodded but didn't say anything in response.

Bones noted her continued look of agitation and decided it would be a good time to have a talk with her. There were some things she needed to know to have a fuller picture of the relationship between the captain and the first officer. He looked her squarely in the eyes and said, "Lieutenant Uhura, there are other developments that you should know about. Would you come into my office so we can discuss them?" He wasn't sure how long this would take, and he didn't want to keep an exam room occupied unnecessarily.

She was so surprised, all she could do was to nod and stammer, "Uh, sure, Doctor. Lead the way."

After telling the front desk staff that he would be in consultation in his office and therefore unavailable, they made their way to the untidy room, Nyota couldn't help but remember the last conversation she'd had there. It had been with Kirk, and she'd asked—no, practically _begged_—him not to get discouraged trying to be Spock's friend. At the moment, she was bitterly regretting having had that conversation—she couldn't know it would have made no difference, as Jim really would have persevered on his own anyway—and the past wasn't giving her much hope for the conversation that she suspected was about to take place. But, she knew the doctor could often be very sensible about relationships, despite having a bitter ex-wife in his own past, so she decided to hear him out.

In an eerily familiar replay of that earlier time, the doctor gestured her into the desk chair while he moved a pile of PADDs from another one. He dusted the seat with a handkerchief and then he straddled the chair facing the back. He leaned his arms on the chair back and sat regarding her with an odd, appraising look. After a while, he decided on what to say.

"Well, first off, Lieutenant Uhura…" he paused already and said, "Oh, hell, that's a mouthful." He took a breath and came to a decision. "Say, can I call you 'Ny-chan'?" She blinked at him, clearly surprised, so he nervously tried to explain, "I know that Jim calls you 'Ny'—and I know that you know that he told me because he told me that he'd told you that he'd told me" he babbled himself to a halt. He thought, _Oh jeez, way to blather on, Leonard! I'm usually more collected than _this_…well, I hope so anyway. Guess I'm just nervous because I don't know how she'll take this, plus I'm maybe about to go _way_ out on a limb here about Jim…and about Spock, too…_ He stumbled through the rest, "But that, uh… doesn't seem to quite fit you, somehow… but 'Ny-chan' really does, so umm…would that be OK?" He repeated Jim's nickname for her with the affectionate honorific tacked onto the end, something he'd picked up from watching Japanese anime with the captain. He was fully aware that the honorific was more typically appended to a surname, rather than an abbreviated version of a given name, although that did happen on occasion with close friends. But, as he told her, "Ny-chan" just seemed to suit her.

She looked at him a moment in wide-eyed, open-mouthed amazement, and although she was still too angry to give this stumbling speech the laughter it really deserved, she giggled a tiny bit at the apparent absurdity of the usually collected, articulate doctor fumbling for words on top of coming out with this rather unique version of her name. She was familiar with the Japanese system of honorifics, so she knew what he was trying to convey with the term. She had heard of his and the captain's shared interest in anime, but it still surprised her, although at the same time, she found it oddly endearing. She smiled a bit wider than she had since she'd first talked to Christine, and she said, "Well, after that, how could I possibly say 'No'?" After a slight pause, she decided to clarify, "That is, you may call me 'Ny-chan' as long as _I_ get to call you something less formal than 'Dr. McCoy'…but I really don't want to call you 'Bones'," she added. Nyota left the reason for that unsaid, but they both knew it was because it was primarily the captain's name for him.

McCoy considered and then said, "OK, it can be your choice—take your pick: 'Len,' 'Lenny,' or 'Leonard'."

She tried them out in turn and then returned to one. "'Lenny'," she said again and nodded, "That's the one, 'Lenny'."

They exchanged a smile, and they both unwound as the atmosphere became less strained and more friendly. He slapped his hands on his knees and said, "Well, then, Ny-chan, we're in bidness," using one of his favorite Southernisms before bringing his arms up to rest on the chair back once again. He looked at her for another long moment, then he took a deep breath and began, "Well, obviously you now know there was a serious problem between Jim and Spock while you were away at the star base."

She nodded and said, "Luckily, I was clued in by a friend before anyone had the chutzpah to ask me—that would have been really embarrassing to admit I didn't even know about it!"

He nodded and said, "You have my sympathy. It can be hard when people assume that you're 'the person who knows' but you don't really know any more than anyone else. I was kind of in the same boat as you on this one; I was holed up in the lab trying to lick that respiratory infection, and I didn't find out there was any kind of problem until it was practically over, and even then, I never knew what really happened between them. I don't think anyone knows that but the two of them." He gave her a little time to absorb this, and he said, "So, anyway, I'm glad you were told that something had happened before you were asked." He paused again before saying rather slowly, "But that's not the only thing that's been going on between them…" he trailed off and regarded her again with that same strange speculative look as previously.

She pressed, "Lenny, you've been giving me that weird look off and on since we got to your office. Just spit it out, already, whatever it is you want to tell me!"

He shook his head and said, "You're not ready to hear that part yet; I have to give you the background first." Her eyebrows shot up to her hairline and she was about to start a spluttering protest that she was ready to hear anything he was ready to say when he silenced her with another shake of his head and a look of mock sternness before saying, "All in good time, Ny-chan, all in good time."

She sat back, crossed her arms over her chest, and sighed, "OK, Lenny; I guess it _is_ your prerogative to tell me in your own way…"

"Damn straight," McCoy agreed. His nervousness flared as he wondered if he should get into an odd idea he had about the captain and the first officer, but he held off making a decision on that point. There were enough other things to impart at the moment. He took a deep breath and then launched into his narrative, beginning with the time he'd shown up at the captain's ready room the evening the two men had managed to repair their friendship—he really got her attention when he told her about how contrite Jim was over the whole thing—and ending with the night he and Jim had given Spock advice on how to talk to people he didn't know at parties. However, he omitted any mention of the physical interactions he had witnessed between his two friends.

It was amazing enough for her to hear about the doctor and the first officer teaming up to razz the captain, but she stared at McCoy in open-mouthed astonishment during his account of Spock's brilliant justification of wanting to make Jim laugh. When he came out with the part where Spock parodied his own "Damn it, Jim, I'm a…" line, she surprised both of them by actually laughing along with him. And she cracked up again when he told her about the exchange during his second visit that lead to his telling the captain that only he could end up playing straight man to a Vulcan.

When she was stopped laughing, she remarked, "Wow, that's almost unbelievable." The mood had become significantly lighter over the course of the doctor's account, so she now looked at him in apparent complete seriousness and asked, "Now, you're _sure_, absolutely 100% _sure_ that that was actually Spock in the ready room those times, not some weird clone from an alternate universe?"

He answered gravely, "Well, I'm as sure as I _can_ be that it was the real Spock, but if it wasn't, how would I necessarily know?"

She replied, "Hmmm, I guess you've got a point there…"

They both laughed again, and then McCoy cleared his throat and said, "Now back to the matter at hand…"

Nyota looked at him in surprise and asked, "You mean there's more?"

His answer was to give her another strange look and mutter almost under his breath, "You don't know the half of it!"

She uncrossed her arms and sat leaning forward and gripping the arms of the chair as she said, "Well then, _tell me_ already!" her voice betraying a teeny bit of impatience.

He still hesitated a moment, uncertain how she would react to what he was about to tell her: would she take it well, possibly even approve, or would she want to kill Jim all over again? He cleared his throat and said, "OK, here goes." Another deep breath, then, "Spock lets Jim touch him."

She stared at him and asked, "You mean, the captain _said_ that Spock allows him to do that?" Even after the revelation that the first officer and the doctor were becoming friends, she still couldn't imagine her reserved Vulcan ex-boyfriend discussing such a thing with him. That McCoy might be referring to something he had witnessed, rather than something he had simply been told, never even crossed her mind.

He shook his head and set her straight. "No, I mean that Spock lets Jim touch him. I saw it myself…twice in one evening, in the captain's ready room, actually." He took in her look of near-shock and continued a bit hesitantly, "Uh, yeah…it seems they've, uh… got this thing going where Jim reaches toward him, umm…asking permission as it were, and Spock, uh… nods if it's OK for the captain to touch him. It's one of the damndest things I ever saw." He paused, remembering a conversation he'd had with Jim later, after his initial surprise had worn off. He continued, "I collared Jim on his own later, and I found out that the first time they had one of these…uh, _exchanges_, was when they went to see that amber exhibit. And it's gone on since then…" At her sudden dark look, he hastily added, "Except for that unfortunate…err, interruption…" She nodded in acknowledgement—they shouldn't forget why they were having this conversation, after all—and then he finished, "And it's now gotten to the point where they're both comfortable letting me see them do it."

Nyota's angry expression had fled, and her remaining stare took on a goggle-eyed quality as Bones went on, "Anyway, the first time while I was with them, Jim just grabbed one of Spock's shoulders and kind of shook it a little, you know, pretty much normal guy-to-guy contact…well for humans anyway, though I guess not so much for Vulcans." He laughed a little at the relative absurdity of this statement before continuing, "But then the second time—I'll never forget it, they were standing at the door as Spock was about to leave, but he was still being kind of nervous about the party—and so Jim put his arm all the way around Spock's shoulders and kind of hugged him while he reassured him, reminded him that he'd faced down Nero, so surely he could handle a party." As her mouth dropped open further, he held up his hand and said, "No, wait, here's the real kicker: Spock leaned against him a little when he did that, even though I was right there watching them." He took in her look of incredulity and said, "Yeah, I don't blame you for looking like that; I almost couldn't believe it, either, and I _saw_ it!"

She sat in stunned silence absorbing these revelations. She knew that Spock had opened up to Jim unusually quickly, but still, for the first officer to allow the captain to touch him in this way was, well, simply amazing. But when she thought about it, she realized that perhaps she should not have been so surprised. His bodily response to her during their romantic relationship had led her to believe that he probably did need some level of physical contact, due to his human heritage (although she was also aware, if this were indeed the case, that he probably couldn't consciously admit it to himself). But none-the-less, this open affection between the two men was simply not something that she had ever expected to happen. True, there was, of course, the occasional punch on the shoulder she'd observed the captain giving his first officer, but she didn't think those were in the same category of physical contact that the doctor had observed. And even though she suspected that almost 100% of such interactions were being initiated by the captain, she also knew from her own experience, that it wouldn't be happening at all except that the half-Vulcan was readily allowing it. For rare though those occasions were during their romantic relationship when he hadn't want her to touch him when they had had privacy, he had always told her immediately when that was the case.

Even more surprising was that Spock was apparently beginning to reciprocate in some small way, if the doctor was to be believed, and she really had no reason to doubt him. And that brought her to consider the most astonishing thing of all: Spock had allowed someone to witness the physical affection between the captain and himself. She knew from personal experience how very reluctant he was to engage in any public display of affection. The only times with her, ever, had been on that day of unimaginable grief and terror, when he had kissed her on the transporter pad (an exchange which she had initiated) and then had grabbed her hands when he had somehow returned to the ship alive and unhurt. But other than on that one, extraordinary day, he had never touched her in front of _anyone_.

So just what did it mean, that her ex-boyfriend so readily allowed the captain to touch him, to the point where the men had established a _routine_ around this behavior? And what did it mean that Spock was apparently just fine with an affectionate exchange between them being witnessed on a perfectly normal, non-extraordinary day? Had he been so very discrete with her, even after there was no longer any need for discretion, because they had been in a romantic relationship, while what was going on with the captain must obviously be motivated by friendship instead (and it _was_ only that…wasn't it?) and so it didn't matter to him if it was observed or not?

As various thoughts and emotions chased each other across her face, McCoy said, "Yeah, I'm still trying to make sense of it, too."

She sat blinking at him for a few moments before she finally spoke. "Well, I'm about as surprised by this as anything in my entire life." She was silent again, gathering her thoughts before continuing slowly, "But, if this is something that Spock wants—and obviously he does, since he certainly wouldn't be allowing it otherwise…" she trailed off. Then anger flashed briefly in her eyes as she said, "But that makes it even _more_ critical that the captain not play around with Spock's emotions. If Spock has come to depend on him in that way, then…" she trailed off again.

McCoy fixed a speculative gaze on her, and he almost brought up his theory regarding this rather unexpected behavior between the captain and the first officer, but then he decided against it. Better to let her observe them herself and draw her own conclusions and not affect her judgment with his ideas. There would be time to discuss such things later, if need be. His slight lingering nervousness vanished as he decided to keep these particular thoughts to himself: no need to go out on a limb today.

The doctor shook his head to dismiss what he'd been considering, saying instead, "Agreed." He looked at her for a moment and then said, "I know that Spock's an adult, and he can make his own decisions, but I also know that you're a very important person in his life, and your opinion matters to him. He can, of course, decide to be friends with Jim, regardless of what you think, but I know he'll be a lot happier if you support him in this. And I really, truly think that Jim has learned his lesson here, so I think you should forgive him and give this friendship your blessing."

Nyota narrowed her eyes at him and asked in a suddenly suspicious voice, "Lenny, you're not just saying that because you're the captain's friend, are you?"

He looked back at her, slightly hurt, and replied, "Ny-chan, haven't you been paying attention? Don't you understand that I'm now _Spock's_ friend, too? I'm not going to advocate for something that I think might end up hurting him, regardless of how much Jim might want it."

She looked at him, chastened, and said with some embarrassment, "I'm sorry, Lenny. I really do know that, but it's so new to me I guess I didn't remember to take that into account. I'll be better about it in the future." Her expression changed suddenly to one of deep gratitude and she said, "And thanks, by the way, for wanting to be Spock's friend. He lost so very much, and I'm really, really grateful he's not so alone anymore."

The doctor answered, "You're welcome, shug," briefly reverting to his Southern roots with the quaint endearment. "I'm glad things worked out that way, too, although I can't say I'm happy about the circumstances that precipitated it."

Nyota nodded in agreement and said, "Amen to that."

McCoy paused for a moment and then said, "Ny-chan, I can see that you've calmed down a lot, now that you have a better idea of what all's been going on." She nodded again, and he asked, almost pleading, "So, umm…can't you go ahead and forgive Jim?"

She sighed and answered, "Oh, Lenny, I don't know. I'm going to—that is, I, umm…I guess I am anyway—but, what he did was just so awful, I'm not sure if I can just yet…"

He pressed, "Well, Spock has forgiven him, and you can see they both really want this friendship. And if you've ever tried to be friends with two people who are fighting with each other…well, you know how uncomfortable that can be."

She sighed again and said, "That's true, what you just said, and I don't want to put Spock in that uncomfortable position, but…well, I don't know. I really kind of hated the captain there for a bit—well, maybe it's more accurate to say I hated what he _did_—but I have to admit that most of the anger I was feeling toward him is gone. And I _know_ Spock wants to be friends with Jim." McCoy smiled to hear her slip back into calling the captain by his first name—she was coming around, slowly it was true, but she was coming around.

She paused briefly before continuing, "And, I also have to admit that, outside of this one incident, that Jim has been very good for Spock. They were just starting to be friends when I left for the star base, but from what you've told me, he's really been able to draw Spock out, get him to try new things, even relax enough to openly tell jokes, let himself be touched, and I don't know…somehow…tap into his human side more, which I think is one of the best things anyone could do."

Nyota now gave the doctor a brilliant smile and said, "Plus, it was through Jim that Spock has now become friends with you, and I'm really grateful for that." She paused again. "And so for all those reasons, I really wish I could tell Spock that I'll support his wanting to be friends with Jim." Another pause and a sigh. "But, I don't know if the captain can be trusted to behave or if he might just do this kind of thing again. Yes, I know you told me what Jim said about getting you to knock some sense into him if he ever did it again, but that doesn't tell me that he _won't_. And Spock doesn't need someone in his life who's just going to jerk him around. He's been through _way_ too much for that. The captain _says_ he knows what he did, but I don't know…" She sighed and said again, "I just wish I could be sure that if he can be trusted from here on out…" She trailed off.

McCoy looked at her speculatively for a long moment and then decided to take a chance. He suspected from her uncharacteristic violence toward Jim (or at least toward one of his chairs) that she already knew the worst possible consequence of the rift between the captain and the first officer. He could be wrong, of course, but if he could manage to find out just how much she knew, there might be something that he could share with her that would ease her mind on the question of Jim's trustworthiness in the future. But he had to tread carefully, because if he was wrong, if she didn't actually know the potential end-point of their dispute, he would make things worse instead of better.

He cleared his throat and began, "Umm, Ny-chan, do you, umm…do you know what might have happened if Jim and Spock hadn't been able to patch things up?

She compressed her mouth in anger as she gave him a sharp look, and after a moment she replied, "I think I do…well, yes, I do, if you're talking about Spock almost getting to the point of requesting a transfer."

He nodded, "Yep, that's it, alright." As her expression darkened further, he hastened to add, "Well, there's something you should know about that before you make up your mind about Jim, but you _absolutely, positively_ have to promise me that you won't tell him that I told you."

She turned a curious gaze on him, held up her hand Girl-Scout-like and said, "I promise, Scout's honor."

He took a deep breath and prepared himself. While he knew that what he was about to say had almost certainly been divulged with the expectation of confidentiality—even though there probably had not really been much thought at all when the information came spilling out—he decided that it was important enough that she know this for him to make an exception to his normally very strict rule about such things. The reason he could, he knew, was that during the incident in question, he had not been acting in his capacity as a doctor bound by the strict confidentiality required by medical ethics, but in his capacity as a friend, bound by the looser personal code of ethics that included, on occasion, leeway to break such confidences when there was real need. Sometimes, the ends really _did_ justify the means.

McCoy said, "Maybe this will help you make up your mind." Deep breath. "A couple of days after they made up, Jim was supposed to meet me in the officers' lounge after he and Spock finished working on a transfer request—something he didn't think would take very much time—but he never showed. He didn't call, and he didn't answer his communicator. The computer said he was in the captain's ready room, so I went to check on him. He didn't answer the door chime, either, so I used my medical override code to get in, thinking he might be unconscious or might be having some other kind of serious health emergency."

He paused and shook his head at the memory before continuing, "Jim was sitting at the table with his back to me and with his head in his hands. I was barely in the door—he didn't even look around at me, but somehow he knew who it was even before I opened my mouth—and he just said abruptly, 'Go away, Bones. I don't need a doctor.' So I said, 'Well, I'm not here as your doctor; I'm here as your friend,' and he glanced at me at that point and said, 'Well, I _could_ use one of those,' and that's why I can tell you anything about our conversation at all." Her eyes widened slightly and then nodded to show she understood.

The doctor went on, "Jim wasn't crying at that point, but I could see that he had been; your face doesn't get that puffy, slightly sticky look or your eyes get so red and bloodshot without doing that." Nyota looked unimpressed, and the doctor fixed her with a sharp gaze. "Now, I don't think there's any way you could know this, but Jim just doesn't cry…about anything. I've been best friends with him since the day we met on that transport—you were on it, too, as I recall—_plus_ I roomed with him for all our years at the Academy. In all that time, I've never seen him cry, or ever seen him when it looked like he _might_ have been, not even after everything that happened with the _Narada. _Sothat night in the ready room was the first time, ever." Nyota was now looking at him in surprise, and he continued, "I'm telling you because I want you to know that this sort of thing isn't an everyday occurrence for James Tiberius Kirk. You should think about that."

She considered what it might mean. The captain, crying over what he'd done to Spock, when according to the doctor, the man never cried about anything? Why should that be? She remembered then at one point having heard Spock say that Jim had a talent for bringing out his emotions. Perhaps the first officer also had a talent for bringing out the captain's emotions in return. Her expression softened as she retreated slightly from her hard stance and she said, "Go on…"

McCoy picked up his narrative. "He just sat for a while not saying anything, but then he kind of whispered, 'I almost screwed up big time, Bones, I mean _really_ big time,' and then he said he couldn't even remember when he'd done something worse. So I asked him if this had anything to do with his falling out with Spock, and he just nodded and ducked his head, like he was going to cry if he tried to say anything else. For once, I didn't press him, like I normally would have, because I could see how distressed he was, so I just said I was there to listen if he wanted to talk. Well, apparently, that was the right thing to say because then the whole story about Spock almost putting in a transfer request came tumbling out. He said how he'd known that he'd hurt Spock during their 'misunderstanding,' but he hadn't known how very badly until this came out. And then he kept saying how he almost couldn't believe he'd been such a total jerk, and how incredibly grateful he was that Spock was giving him another chance, especially seeing as how it was one of the worst things he'd ever done to someone who actually cared about him and whom he cared about in return."

Nyota had been looking down, but her head snapped up at this information. Was _this_ was why his falling out with his first officer was so upsetting to the captain? Perhaps it was true, what he said about genuinely caring about Spock. He wouldn't say something like that to the doctor if it weren't true, would he? For a moment, she considered what she had just heard and then she remarked, "Well, I have to admit this is encouraging. It's the sort of thing I wanted to know about him, and it's good to hear that he recognizes what a shit he was. And I'm especially pleased that he knows how lucky he is that Spock is willing to try being friends with him despite what he did." After a moment she added, "And it's good that the captain understands that Spock truly cares about him. That is a precious gift that he shouldn't take lightly."

The doctor nodded in agreement before saying, "I don't think he does take it lightly, Ny-chan. Remember, he also said he cares about Spock, too, and he wouldn't say that if it weren't true. That's another thing he doesn't do; he doesn't make false statements about what he feels." He looked at her earnestly as she nodded to indicate understanding in her turn.

McCoy went on, "But there's still more." He took another breath before saying, "He then told me something else that's going to surprise the hell out of you." Nyota fixed him with an intently curious gaze and he went on, "Jim said he got 'really emotional' when Spock was with him in the ready room and they were talking about all this stuff. The commander apparently realized how upset he was, and so Spock put his arm around Jim and said that he shouldn't feel bad, the 'incident ' was closed and they just needed to put it behind them. Jim said he was so surprised that Spock would take the initiative to comfort him like that, and that somehow, probably because he was taken off guard by it, he was able to hold things together as long as the commander was in the room with him. Of course, after Spock left, it was thinking about what our pointy-eared hobgoblin had just said and done—once again so easily dismissing what Jim had done to him—that made him completely lose it. It was a while after that that I showed up to check on him."

Nyota sat absorbing this new information from the doctor. She felt reassured by what he'd told her, and she was beginning to think that yes, Jim probably could be trusted, as much as humans, those wildly variable creatures, can _ever_ be completely trusted. And it was also reassuring in an odd way to have confirmation that the affection between the two men was indeed a two-way street and was not initiated solely by Jim. This signified a certain comfort level on Spock's part with this aspect of their relationship, and she thought it was good thing (as long as Jim could refrain from jerking him around), being, as it was, a way to reach his human side. And it was in embracing his human side as well as his Vulcan side that Nyota thought he would finally become comfortable in his own skin and be happy with who he was. If Jim could help get him there, well, OK, that was good, and so she should probably support Spock's desire to be friends with him. She just had to make sure the man knew there would be serious consequences if he proved untrustworthy in the future.

McCoy had been watching her changing expression and decided to press home the advantage. He said, "There's one more thing you should know. While Jim and I were talking, he came to the realization that if he hadn't come to his senses when he did, and if Spock had actually asked for a transfer, that he would have snapped out of it when he saw that request. He would have begged Spock to forgive him and then would have asked him to withdraw it. So, we probably didn't really come as close to losing Spock as it looked like initially. But I'm glad, and I know that Jim is _very_ glad, that it didn't come to that after all."

She frowned a little and asked, "If that's so, why didn't he say so when I confronted him? It was something he could have said in his own defense." She shook her head, truly mystified as she said, "Especially since I even said if things hadn't worked out that night that Spock might already be gone…" She paused a moment before finishing, "I guess I don't get it."

The doctor gave her a probing look and asked, "Do you really think you would have been willing to hear it then? Wouldn't it have just made you more angry, like he was trying to justify what he did, like it hadn't been such a very bad thing after all?"

She started slightly at the realization that McCoy was absolutely right: that is exactly how she would have reacted had Jim said anything along those lines. She sighed and nodded her agreement while saying. "Yeah, you're right about that—it wouldn't have done any good for me to hear it at that point." She was then quite for a while, chewing it all over.

Nyota suddenly asked, "What would he have done if Spock had still wanted to go through with the transfer? Did he say?"

The doctor hesitated only a moment before he answered, "Uh, yeah; he said he was of two minds about that. One part of him thought he wouldn't try to stop Spock from leaving, out of respect for the friendship that might have been between them if he, Jim, hadn't screwed up so royally. But the other part would have wanted to stop him from leaving by any means necessary—and I got the impression, although he didn't specifically say—that those means would have included physical restraint along the lines of a hug—but only if necessary, you understand." He gave her another odd look.

Nyota saw the strange look that accompanied the doctor's final statement, but she decided not to respond. There was clearly something he was thinking that he was unwilling to say, and she was now becoming too tired to press him about it. She brought her thoughts back to consider the main question of forgiving the captain.

Neither of them said anything for a few minutes as she thought things over, her expression slowing changing to cautious acceptance. McCoy started to smile and he said, "So, Ny-chan, are you feeling reassured, like Jim really can be trusted? Are you ready to forgive him?"

She gave him a tentative smile in return and said, "Oh, I suppose so. But I'd like to let him stew for a few days before I tell him."

Bones frowned a little and reminded her, "You know that party for Chekov is tomorrow night—oh, you _do_ know about that, right?" She nodded and he continued, "Well, it would be great if you could go ahead and tell Jim you forgive him before that, since you're planning on doing it anyway. I would hate to see this put a damper on things, because if Jim is still all bummed out, I can pretty much guarantee that that will end up affecting Spock in a negative way. And I know you don't want that."

She sighed and answered, "Oh, Lenny, you're right…once again, you're right. I was just so, so, _so_ angry with Jim that I wanted him to suffer for a few days, but I suppose that's petty and mean-spirited and really beneath me. I can't say I'm all upset and mad at Jim for what he did to Spock and then turn around and do something myself that ultimately ends up hurting the man I'm trying to protect." Her eyes widened with sudden awareness and she briefly put her hand to her mouth before saying, "I just realized that I kind of did that, even though what I was trying to do was to protect Spock. I couldn't leave well enough alone when I found out—it was such a shock and it made me so angry—but I probably just should have left it. As far as they were concerned, it was all over and done with, and all I did was to make both of them deal with it all over again—Spock, too, not just Jim." She shook her head at herself, "Oh, man. Well, Jim's sure not the only screw-up here..."

McCoy then said, "Well, in my opinion, you were completely justified in wanted to vet Jim for trustworthiness, and for the rest, I don't think you should blame yourself too much, Ny-chan. I think it was the shock that did. If Spock had just emailed you about this, especially after they'd fixed it, I bet it would have been a very different story when you got back to the ship."

Nyota looked at him gratefully and said, "Thanks, Lenny. And I think you're right about that; it was because he'd concealed it from me that I got _so_ upset when I finally heard about it, because I then automatically assumed it was _really_ bad." But, before she could get off on another angry tangent, she remembered another surprising thing that Spock had done but which she had pushed aside due to everything else. She now laughed a little and said, "You won't believe it, but Spock actually tried to _bluff_ at first when I asked him about it. "

The doctor's eyebrows shot up at that, but then he chuckled and said, "Well, you know, I _would_ have been surprised to hear that a few days ago, but not now…no, not now."

She replied ironically, "As you can imagine, that did wonders for my mood, didn't at _all_ start me thinking what he was trying to conceal must be really _super_ bad, oh, no." She paused and shook her head. "I obviously need to tell Spock he should keep people in the loop when he's got problems. Then there's much less chance of an over-reaction."

"Good idea," the doctor replied. He was quiet a moment and then asked, "So, umm… when will you tell Jim that you forgive him?"

Nyota replied, "Well, I don't want to tell him tonight—he can have one rough night out of this—but I will tell him tomorrow before the party, as early in the day as I can manage." She was quiet a moment and then added, "But I'll go ahead and let Spock know tonight that I'm forgiving Jim. After all, I don't want _him_ to have a bad night, too."

McCoy smiled and said, "Good girl, Ny-chan! Now, go fill Spock in on your plans and then get to bed. You and that hand need some rest."

Nyota smiled back, replying, "Thanks, Lenny. And thanks for everything. I'm feeling much, much better after our talk."

"You're welcome. Now go," he said, with mock gruffness as he got up and opened the door for her.

She waved and sailed off, calling back over her shoulder, "See you tomorrow," as she prepared herself to talk to Spock for the second time that evening.

* * *

**Author's note: **Whew! This was a hard chapter to write. Hopefully, I'll be able to get the next one out a little sooner.

I've made a couple of basic changes. I changed the primary watch for the senior officers to second watch, which in Starfleet in my universe means 0800 to 1600, with first watch being 0000 to 0800 and third watch being 1600 to 2400. It was too hard for me to think of them going to work at, well, midnight. So I've switched their work day to mirror my own. This is also why I made the watches eight hours, even though they're actually just four hours in the Navy. The reason, again, is that this is the length of my work day, so…

I also changed the location of Jim's primary office to be in the captain's ready room. I had been thinking of the ready room as just a sort of conference room, but I did a little more reading about the Star Trek world and found out that in some cases, the captain's office was in the ready room. That made a lot of sense, so I changed the location of Jim's office in my story. At some point, I'll probably go back and revise the previous chapters to reflect this change and the change in the watch schedule.

And finally, many thanks to my husband for the idea to have Bones call Nyota "Ny-chan." I think it really does suit her.


	8. Entr'acte, ptie 2

Chapter 8: Entr'acte, ptie 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own nuttin', not no way, not no how.**

When Nyota got to the door of Spock's quarters, she hesitated a moment—it was now fairly late—but she decided he would want to know what she had come to tell him, even if he was asleep and she woke him up. She pushed the door chime, and he opened the door almost immediately.

Spock regarded her a bit warily but said, "Nyota. Please come in," as he move aside for her to enter.

She had not been in his quarters for some time, but she wasn't surprised to see that there was no change from the Spartan neatness she remembered. He took her over to the small sitting area, not as large as the one in the captain's quarters, but still conducive to conversation. He gestured for her to take one of the comfortable chairs, and he sat down across from her, a small low table between them. He didn't have to wait long for her to begin.

She cleared her throat and said, "Spock, as you might have imagined, I got very angry when I talked to the captain." His gaze took on a hint of concern as she continued, "But I've just been talking to Dr. McCoy…"

He looked at her sharply then, and noticing how she quickly hid her right hand under her left, asked, "For what purpose did you consult the doctor?"

She blushed and said, "I'd rather not say…and anyway, that's not important now." She didn't want to tell Spock about punching out a chair in Jim's quarters so that she didn't punch out the captain instead.

He hesitated but finally inclined his head in acquiescence and waited for her to go on.

Nyota continued, "Anyway, he said that there were other things I needed to know about, and so he told me about those two evenings in the captain's ready room where you and he started to actually be friends, and about, well, the, uh…sorts of, umm… _interactions_ he saw taking place between you and the captain—verbal and, uh…otherwise." For some reason, she found herself unable to say anything more direct on this topic, but she didn't know if she was trying to save Spock or herself from some embarrassment, or what. Rather than dwell on it too long, though, she then continued in a rush, "And he also told me some things that made me think Jim can be trusted to behave himself in the future…" she trailed off.

Spock's eyes had lost some of their wariness when he heard her refer to the captain by his first name—she must have calmed down substantially to do that—and he relaxed slightly. It was such a relief to now think that this might finally really be over that he didn't spare any thought to what she was dancing around in her uncharacteristically halting speech. And in any case, the growing affection between his captain and himself was now such an established fact for him that he momentarily forgot that she would have known nothing at all about it before talking to McCoy. So he ignored that part of what she said and focused on the last bit about Jim and trust.

He asked, "What things?"

She shook her head at him and replied, "That was told to me in confidence." If she thought it was strange that he fastened on that part of her speech instead of her stumbling lines about "umm…_interactions_," she gave no sign.

As much as he wanted to press further, he retreated with a comprehending nod. He was silent for a few moments and then said, "You said you were very angry after confronting the captain, but you appear much calmer now after having talked with the doctor." She nodded and he made a mental note to thank the man for this at the earliest opportunity. He hesitated only a moment before saying, "Are you ready to forgive Jim?" and his eyes held a small, almost hopeful expression.

Nyota smiled a bit ruefully and answered, "Yes…but I'm not going to do it tonight. Tomorrow."

His expression took on a slight, almost pleading look as he said, "Please, Nyota, do not wait. Tell him now, tonight."

She shook her head again and said, "No, Spock." He now almost-frowned at her, but she dug in her heals and said, "I want him to have one long night to think about this—I don't want him to ever hurt you like this again—so I can't let him off the hook _too_..."

Spock interrupted her, his tone slightly sharp, "Nyota, you are being unfair. I hurt Jim, too…" He stopped abruptly, suddenly unable to say anything around the lump in his throat.

Nyota looked back at him in consternation and asked, "What do you mean?" her voice tinged with alarm.

There was an awkward pause as he looked back at her in dismay before she asked, "And why didn't you tell me this when I talked to you earlier?" She was frowning and now sounded somewhat upset.

He decided to answer her second question first, because it was the easier one to talk about. He had to swallow before he was able to speak, but his voice was steady as he replied, "I did not tell you because I mistakenly thought the less I said about the incident, the better. I now recognize that this was an error."

But even as he spoke, he was aware that, while the answer he gave was certainly true, it was not the only one he could have given. A reason closer to the heart of the matter was that he had not even wanted to consider the possibility that they would have this conversation—although he should have—and so he had not prepared for it. There were certain aspects he didn't want to reveal (the debt owed by Ensign Palmer's mother and the payment of same, for example), and he had not sorted through it all to filter what to say. And as he had simply been far too rattled to think quickly on his feet during their conversation in the lab, he had said basically nothing, thinking that was the better option. (Strange, he never felt this way on duty, when he was dealing with ship's business. Yes, he did get rattled on duty—a person would have to have been crazy not to be rattled by _Nero_—but he dealt with it differently and didn't make these kinds of mistakes then. Something else to consider during meditation.)

The half-Vulcan dropped his gaze for a moment before looking at her again with a very bleak expression. He continued, "I was speaking accurately when I told you that our misunderstanding was my fault. It resulted from my action, or rather my inaction. It was unintentional, but I was not 'there for' Jim, as the human saying goes, at a time when it was important. I failed to give him the support he needed…and deserved." He stopped and took a couple of deep breaths as he began repeatedly clenching and unclenching one hand into a fist. When he was able to go on, his voice was quiet and strained, "Given the…circumstances, he…he thought I was…rejecting his friendship…that I, umm…was rejecting _him_, that I had…abandoned him…" he trailed off as he blinked rapidly a few times.

Nyota stared at him, wide-eyed as she took in not only what he had just said but also the manner in which he had said it. His emotional control was practically gone, his whole being exuding distress. She had _never_ heard him stumble over words like this, not even in the awkward early days of their courtship, not even in the emotionally charged time after the destruction of Vulcan. And fighting tears? Of course, she couldn't attest to his behavior since their breakup, but after a period of intense grieving when they were on their way home from that first mission, he had remained dry-eyed no matter what the circumstances, including the time when their romantic relationship was falling apart. So clearly, this friendship with Jim must have become extremely important to him for him to react like that. But perhaps, she should not be so surprised by his reaction when she considered that he had lost almost _everything_ to the _Narada_. It was going to take time, perhaps the rest of his life, to heal from that tragedy, and it was perhaps almost unbearable for him to contemplate a further loss. A tiny part of her awareness whispered the question of why the possible loss Jim's friendship should be so much more upsetting to him than the certain end of his relationship with her, but she pushed that down. There were enough other things going on here without worrying about strange sub-texts.

As these thoughts flew threw her head, she remained silent, waiting for him to regain some control. Soon enough, he forced himself to relax his hand, but now a slight frown appeared between his eyebrows, and he opened his mouth a couple of times before he continued, his voice low and hesitant, "I do not know how I know this…but…but I am certain he has experienced a great deal of very painful rejection in his past." He looked down again, flushing slightly as he whispered, almost to himself, "I can _feel_ it, like a hole burned into his soul." In a flash of sudden clarity, he knew that he wanted nothing so much as to be one of the people who helped fill that emptiness, to sooth away that pain and banish it forever, to be the steadfast, loyal, and true friend his captain needed and deserved, for the rest of their lives. For even if they no longer served together at some point in the future, he was sure now they _would_ be friends, always.

Spock raised his eyes to see Nyota staring at him, looking stunned. His flush deepened as he realized what he had just said, but he knew it was absolutely true, and he did not regret it. While there _were_ things about the incident that he was not willing to reveal, he wanted to be truthful with her about all other aspects of it. And if he wanted to be this honest with her, well…he needed to be this honest with her. He continued then in a slightly stronger voice, "I am as certain of this as I am certain that you are sitting next to me right now. And yet I have no idea at all how I have this knowledge," he repeated, shaking his head in puzzlement.

And so now another first: Nyota had _never_ before heard Spock admit to such intuitive understanding of another person. True, he had come to know her and understand her as well as his alien nature would allow (which was, perhaps, as well as _any_ man can ever understand _any_ woman), but she had _told_ him the things he knew about her, he had not just _known_ them somehow. Perhaps because of his utter conviction of the truth of what he was saying, she also recognized the truth of it. And she realized then that his connection with Jim had become much deeper and stronger than she could ever have imagined.

She opened her mouth to speak but stopped herself when she saw him abruptly straighten in his chair, his eyes widening slightly as another realization hit him. He said in an uncomfortable tone, "I have now comprehended that a large part of the reason I did not tell you was because I was embarrassed by my own behavior. I did not want to tell you that I had done such a thing as to so seriously neglect my responsibility to Jim, to my friend, that he thought I had abandoned him." He bowed his head for a moment, and when he looked up, his expression was desolate. He went on, "And I have now made the situation worse yet by not sharing this very relevant information with you. You are angry with both Jim and with me. And of the two of us, I am the much more deserving of your anger." He stopped, looking down and waiting for her reaction.

Nyota sat speechless for a few moments. Damn, had she ever gotten this wrong! She had made a number of serious errors, and she was beginning to feel quite ashamed of what she'd done. Instead of urging Spock to tell her why he claimed the problem between the two men had been his fault, she had just shut him down when he brought it up—twice. And then, she had taken her lack of information and had run with it. Yes indeed, more than enough blame to go around on _this_ one. She, not Spock, had made things worse, and she knew she had to fix it as soon as possible.

Nyota flushed as she shook her head and gave him a wan smile. She then put a hand on his arm and said, "Oh, Spock, you didn't make the situation worse—I did that. And I'm not angry with you…really." She went on, "While I do wish you had told me this before, I understand why you didn't. And I know it's partly—no, _largely_—my fault…" his head snapped up at that as she continued, "Because I wouldn't listen when you tried to tell me…" She sighed and went on, suddenly looking near exhaustion, deflated by guilt, "And I'm not angry with Jim anymore, either." She paused for a moment as her look darkened, saying in a low voice, "But I _am_ angry at someone, and that someone is me." She shook her head again and said, "But I'll work through that on my own," her expression clearing.

She removed her hand from his arm and changed tack then. "OK, clearly, it's not about me forgiving Jim anymore; it's about me apologizing to him and asking _him_ to forgive _me. _So I really do need to go talk to him tonight, but there's something I need to say to you first."

He looked at her, slightly wary, but he managed to shift his face back into neutral as he noticed she was now gazing at him with a sadly thoughtful expression.

Nyota took a deep breath and said, "Spock, you were just talking about how important it was for you to 'be there' for Jim. You've got that part right—it is important to help one's friends and give them the support they need. But, I want you to remember that this is a two-way street, and that your friends—Jim, Dr. McCoy, and I—want to help you, too." Spock's expression lightened to hear her mention Jim first of all.

She went on, "When you've got problems, please remember that you don't need to shoulder those burdens alone anymore. And I know I speak for all three of us when I say that any of us would do anything we can to help you…even if that means leaving you alone to work out something on your own, if that's what you want. We might not be very happy about it, but we'd respect your decision…though we might argue with you a little at first, because we all love you, Spock, and we all want the best for you. Just remember that, OK?" A flush crept into his face at her words, and she wondered about that, but she didn't comment.

She was quiet then, letting him digest what she'd said. And really, this was all she needed to say. She could urge him to let them help him, but she certainly couldn't insist on it. He was a grown man, and she had no right to try to manage his life as if she were his mother or his wife—hell, she wasn't even his girlfriend any more. But, she _was_ his friend, and she needed to do the right thing by him. She wanted to be there when he needed her, if he needed her, but otherwise, she had to step back and stop being so overprotective and let him run his own life in his own way.

Spock let out a long breath as the tension inside him suddenly released; he began to relax, although his expression barely altered. He returned her gaze and replied gravely, "I do not think I am in any danger of forgetting your advice. I shall employ it in the future." He glanced down and then looked up directly in her eyes and continued, "I am aware there will always disturbances of an interpersonal nature wherever so many people live so closely together, but I think, for me, there will not be many more, if any, incidents quite like this one." He looked down again, and when he brought his gaze up, he looked back at her steadily as he said, "I truly do understand that I now have friends to whom I can turn in time of need," absorbing what she had just said and thinking back to what he had realized the night he had spoken to Jim and had repaired their friendship. He added, "It is all rather…new for me, but with the help of you all, I will learn how to…be…in such close relationships." Nyota smiled at him encouragingly and patted his arm.

He paused and his eyes seemed far away as he said, "I have heard the term 'emotional roller-coaster' used to describe incidents such as the one we have just experienced. I once had the opportunity to ride a physical roller-coaster." He focused on her again and finished, "I now understand how singularly apt the term really is. And while that particular roller-coaster was very…stimulating…and riding one in the future would be quite acceptable, I believe I would prefer to stay off of the emotional version, as the saying goes, 'for good and all.' I do not wish to experience such a thing again."

She nodded her agreement and replied with feeling, "Amen to that!"

Neither of them said anything for a moment, but then Nyota sighed as she remembering that she still needed to talk to Jim again. She said, "Right, well, I guess I need to go apologize to Jim…" She hesitated then and asked in a very small voice, "Uh, Spock? Umm…will you come with me?" She was a little afraid that Jim wouldn't answer the door if she showed up outside his quarters alone.

Spock looked at her questioningly but when she just shook her head and asked, "Please?" he nodded in acquiescence and let the matter drop.

A scant minute later, they were outside of Jim's door, only to encounter the "Do not Disturb Except in Case of Emergency" block.

Nyota bit her lip and asked in a whisper, "Umm, what do we do now, Spock? As much as I want to ask you to invoke your emergency override code so I can get this over with, I really don't think waking Jim up like that would be a good idea."

Spock nodded and whispered back, "Agreed. It would cause him to think there was a true emergency with the ship, and that would likely be the worst thing we could do to him." He was quiet a moment and then said, "Let us return to my quarters to discuss this further."

Once there, they laid their plan: they would try before breakfast, agreeing to meet at Spock's quarters at 0540. As early as this sounded to Nyota, who was decidedly _not_ an early riser, Spock assured her that they needed to meet then to have a reasonable chance of catching Jim before he left for the mess hall. He had told her previously that he often ran into Jim at breakfast quite early (she thought he had told her this because it had seemed to surprise him to find that the captain was also an early riser, like he was), so this seemed like a reasonable plan. They said their goodbyes and parted as his door.

* * *

Jim awoke even earlier than usual the next day. He had not slept well, but he didn't think there was anything to be gained from staying in bed. He might drift back to sleep only to be incredibly drowsy when he then had to get up. With a soft groan, he hauled himself out of bed and into his work-out clothes and headed for the gym that adjoined the D Deck rec room. Maybe that would help clear his head and tamp down the dull ache he felt in his chest. A couple of other early risers saluted him as he passed, but neither of them could completely conceal their surprise at his appearance. Well great; he knew he looked like hell, but maybe after a workout and a shower, he wouldn't look too much like he'd been put through a wringer.

Once at the gym, he stretched and did a few warm-up exercises before he started going through his weight training routine. He concentrated on what he was doing to stop himself from thinking about what had happened in his quarters the night before. Sooner or later that day, he knew he would see Uhura, but he didn't want to think about that either. He bent his awareness to doing each movement as precisely and as cleanly as possible.

* * *

That morning, Spock also awoke even earlier than usual. Today, Nyota was going to apologize to Jim and try to set things right with the captain, and he himself would have to ask Ensign Chekov to help with the check of the helm controls at the end of second watch and then go with him to the C Deck rec room. He felt a vague nervousness, knowing that he had this task ahead of him, as well as there being uncertainties in how Nyota's talk with Jim would play out—hopefully it would go well, but they _were_ both humans, so who knew? It was now 0444, giving him 56 minutes before she was due at his quarters, so he decided to use some of the time to meditate and center himself for the day ahead.

Feeling less nervous after meditation, he checked on Jim's current location while he waited for Nyota to arrive. Here, their plans hit a snag. Jim was not in his quarters; he was at the gym instead. Hmm, should they track him down there? He would have to wait for Nyota and consult her on what to do.

At precisely 0540, she pushed the door chime on his quarters. He surprised her by asking her to come in instead of coming out to join her. When he explained the problem, she said, "Well, let's just go on to breakfast. There's lots of time before second watch, so maybe he'll show up before we leave. Then, I can either apologize to him there, if there aren't too many other people around, or if there are, we can arrange for a private talk somewhere before I go on duty."

Spock nodded agreement and replied, "That is a reasonable plan. Let us proceed to the mess hall."

It was still quite early for anyone going on duty on second watch, and there were very few people in the mess hall. It would be possible to find a table that was away from the scattered groups of diners and lone crewmen; these people included both officers and enlisted folk. Since the last decades of the 19th century, when large metal warships became common, it had been a Navy tradition to have a separate mess for the officers and for the enlisted men, but Starfleet had broken with this practice, despite there being ample room on star ships for such separate facilities. In Starfleet's view, sharing meals together was an important way to increase the cohesion of the crew. For even more than on the oceans of Earth, the men and women of the star ships were on their own, sometimes for months at a time, facing unknown dangers, and it was important that the officers and crew form strong and lasting bonds.

Spock and Nyota made their way to the serving area. She chose yoghurt with a dried fruit and nut topping, along with half a bagel and cream cheese, and orange juice. As an afterthought, she added a cup of coffee. She usually didn't need it, but today was an exception, with the combination of a late night and an early morning working against her. She found a table by the back wall with no one else in close proximity. She sat down with her back to the door (she would let Spock face it and be the one to keep a look-out for Jim), nervously waiting for whatever was going to come next. She thought it would probably go well, but then, one never knew; she had been awfully mean to Jim, and if he now wasn't ready to forgive her, well she couldn't exactly blame him. But, she suspected he was a better person than that, so maybe she really didn't have anything to worry about? She would just have to wait and see.

Spock selecting a variety of fruits—some from Vulcan, some from Earth—and a porridge dish of mixed grains from both planets, as well a cup of black coffee (it still surprised her that he genuinely liked it; most alien races appreciated the effect but not the taste of coffee), and he went to sit with her, taking a place at the other side of the table, facing the door.

They were both too nervous to eat much, so to fill the time, Nyota started telling him about some of her experiences on the star base. She had only been at it about ten minutes when Jim walked into the mess hall. He headed for the serving area and took yoghurt, a selection of fresh fruits, a raspberry muffin, and black coffee. This was lighter fair than he often got for breakfast—Bones often nagged him about his choice of bacon and eggs and all the trimmings—but he was feeling the stress of the previous day and really didn't feel much like eating at all. He recognized that he needed to, though, and so he got food that he was pretty sure his stomach could handle. He could always nip back to the mess hall if he got hungry later.

Tray in hand, he turned to look out at the seating area. It was still largely empty, and it only took him a minute to spot them at the back of the room. He initially froze when he saw Nyota—he had not expected to see her here so early—and after their confrontation of the night before, he would have turned right around and fled the scene had not Spock spotted him immediately. His first officer was facing the door and waved him over as soon as he saw him. Well, shit; here was another uncomfortable personal situation/potential conflict thing to deal with, and deal with _right now_ if he went to sit with them and Spock then left him alone with her. Nyota's back was to him, so he had no way to judge her mood, but he couldn't imagine that she would have calmed down very much. Maybe she'd still be so mad at him she'd even get up and leave, and he wasn't sure but what he'd actually prefer that to sitting uncomfortably with her. Alternately, he could leave himself, right now. But, there was no way to do that without seeming incredibly rude, so there was nothing for it but to go over and join them. As much as he wanted to, running from this situation simply wasn't an option.

Jim squared his shoulders, and as he slowly walked toward them, he tried to look as much like his normal buoyant self as his present condition would allow, even knowing he probably still looked like hell. Fortunately, there were still not very many people in the mess hall, and almost no one stared at him as he made his way to their table. He was not looking forward to this at all, and he wanted nothing so much as to simply vanish into a hole rather than face her again. But then he remembered Spock's courage in coming to talk to him that night when it had looked like their friendship was over. And as this flashed through his mind, he also remembered a bit in a movie which he had seen years ago titled _Three Kings_, set in the first Gulf War between the United States and Iraq in 1991. He couldn't call to mind the exact wording, but the gist of the scene had been that it was no good waiting for the courage to do difficult, frightening things; one simply had to act through the fear because the courage to do such things only came after one had done them, not before.

With an internal start, he realized that he had already known this to be true. Except where personal conflict was involved, he _was_ able to act despite any fears he might have; this was true in almost every other area of his life, and had been true for years at this point. It was a part of what lay beneath the supreme confidence with which he approached anything that took brashness or physical courage: just DO IT! Instead, what he needed here was emotional courage, and that he _didn't_ have…well, not in this kind of situation, anyway. But, if he was ever going to have it, he had to stop being such a wuss and push forward through the fear. He decided in that moment that the only way he would ever find the strength to stop running from personal conflict was to, well…stop running and face it, and he might as well start now.

But, as Jim approached the table, it sunk in to him that Spock was honest-to-gods smiling at him, and not a tiny, almost invisible Vulcan smile; true, it was small, but it was still a real, true, genuine _smile_. He felt his heart lift as no _way_ would his first officer be _smiling_ at him if Nyota was still almost ready to kill him, would he? Had something happened to change her mind? And then she herself swiveled around to face him, her expression reflecting deep embarrassment and some trepidation. Well, OK...maybe things were going to be alright after all?

Jim walked around the table to sit next to Spock, but at a slightly discrete distance, just in case he was misreading the situation; he didn't want to screw up again. He said, in as normal a voice as he could manage, "Good morning, Spock, Lieutenant." He put down his tray and rested his hands on the table.

Spock's face had almost returned to normal, but he couldn't keep one side of his mouth from quirking up as they said practically in unison, "Good morning, Jim," The two of them glanced at each other in mild surprise, and Jim could swear there was even a hint of amusement in Spock's expression. So clearly, they hadn't rehearsed it, it had just happened, but somehow, that made it all the more wonderful to Jim's ears. And she had called him by his first name; the day was suddenly shaping up to be better than he could have imagined.

And then it got even better. Nyota glanced at the space around them to confirm that there was still no one else close by, and she then abruptly pushed her tray aside, reached across the table and grabbed one of his hands.

Having instinctively used her dominant hand, which naturally was also the one she had injured, she somehow managed to keep from wincing as her knuckle reminded her of just why she was having this conversation; _Serves me right_, she thought briefly. She lowered her head and blinked a few times, before looking up to lock her gaze on his and say, "Oh, Jim, I'm so sorry. I was _way _out of line, and I know that now. After I, uh…stormed off last night, I talked to Dr. McCoy for a while before talking to Spock again," she flushed darkly as she remembered. She continued, "I found out a number of things that I hadn't known, and then I had all night to think about them…" and he could see from her drawn look that she had, too. She paused before going on, "And while I don't know exactly what got into me, why I did what I did, I _do _know that I butted into something that was over and done with and wasn't any of my business in the first place, and so now, instead of me forgiving you, I'm asking you to forgive me…" She swallowed and then went on, "And really, forgiving you was never up to me, because there's nothing that you did that _I_ need to forgive you for; that was up to Spock, and he'd already done that…" she trailed off. She couldn't keep a tear from spilling over as a small sniff escaped her.

Jim quieted her by jiggling their joined hands and saying, "Hey, now, Ny, you stop that. I know you were just trying to look after Spock, so…apology accepted." He gave her one of his best smiles while she wiped her eyes with her other hand and gave him a rather shaky smile in return. She managed to say "Thank you, Jim," in a slightly choked voice, overwhelmed by his ready forgiveness and his generosity of spirit.

Spock's eyebrows shot up when he heard Jim call her "Ny," but he didn't comment. Instead, he nodded to himself as one side of his mouth quirked up a little. He then looked at his friend and captain and reached across to short distance between them.

Jim's heart practically stopped as Spock's hand landed on his back and a feeling of something like pure happiness shot straight through him. Normally, the cloth of his uniform would present a very effective barrier to the transfer of the half-Vulcan's emotions through his touch telepathy, but this morning, the strength of the man's feelings had blasted right through it. And apparently it didn't stop with Jim. From her small gasp and suddenly widened eyes, he knew Nyota felt to it, too, and she looked at the two men across from her with something approaching awe. Was Spock aware of this, he wondered? Probably he was, as his first officer's eyes were now shining with an inner light, and his mouth was curved into another small but very real smile.

Jim also became aware of a slight buzzing sensation in the index and middle fingers of both his hands, although the feeling was a bit stronger in the hand that was gripped in one of Nyota's. It was a little strange, although it wasn't unpleasant in any way. But before he could think about it more, Spock removed his hand and the buzzing in his fingers abruptly ceased (huh, that was a weird coincidence), although the place on his back where his first officer's hand had rested was now tingling. The feeling of elation was receding, but it was being replaced by a warm sense of comfortable belonging and general well being. He let out a long sigh of contentment and beamed at his companions, knowing that they were both his friends once more.

The half-Vulcan's own smile widened slightly in response, and Nyota smiled back at them both, a real smile this time, as she squeezed Jim's hand (_Ow, ow—good reminder to behave myself_) before releasing him.

Spock managed to school his features into something approaching his more normal look and then looked sideways at Jim for a moment. Apparently deciding that his captain should not be sitting as far away from him as he was, the half-Vulcan hitched his chair closer, so close as that they were almost touching. Jim turned to him and if possible, his smile grew even wider, and he found himself suppressing an urge to take Spock's hand…in gratitude—yeah that was it, in gratitude—not knowing that Spock was fiercely suppressing the very same urge in regards to him. Nyota's gaze turned slightly quizzical as she looked at them, but then she just smiled again and let her gaze drift down to the table.

Before any of this could get awkward, Spock restarted the conversation he and Nyota had been engaged in when the captain came in. He said, "Jim, Nyota was just telling me about…"which prompted her to go on with what she had been saying when he'd joined them. While they began to eat, the three of them were soon busily talking about the X'Chi!di refugees and her experiences with them on the base.

Jim was listening to the two of them discuss some point when he felt another rush of happiness, this time purely from within himself. He looked over at Spock with a grateful smile and then had to clench his near hand into a fist to stop himself from reaching toward his first officer. True, Spock had just touched him, but he was still feeling slightly wary of reaching back, although he couldn't exactly say why. He wanted to bridge that gap, but something was making him hesitate.

But then the next thing he knew, Spock brought them back into physical contact himself. The X'Chi!di refugees had a highly ritualized society, and Jim was temporarily confused by some of the intricate details of their interactions. To explain some point, his first officer leaned close to him, even though there was no actual need for him to do so, and in the process, pressed his shoulder against his captain's. When the half-Vulcan neither apologized nor immediately withdrew, Jim knew it was no accident; his heart gave another of those strange jumps in his chest, and he relaxed into the warm contact. Nyota was almost succeeding in not staring too hard, but as she was now smiling at them hugely, he knew that he had nothing to worry about from her, although he did wonder what they were doing that was causing her to grin at them like an idiot.

Spock straightened back up, ending the contact, but he remained very close. They talked on, and Nyota began explaining how she was constantly stopping fights and putting out other fires of an interpersonal nature among the refugees—the X'Chi!di were apparently a contentious lot anyway, and their situation hadn't improved anyone's temper—when she suddenly paled, and she put her hands up to her mouth, her eyes wide. The two men looked at her in alarm but she soon dropped her hands and her expression quickly changed to one of rueful understanding as she shook her head and clucked her tongue. Spock raised an eyebrow at her and she said with a small embarrassed laugh, "I just realized something. I had been in 'mom' mode for 12 days, for 27 people no less, and when I came back, I didn't drop out of it." This had happened to her once before, when her parents had been gone for almost three weeks and her two younger brothers had been left in her charge. She had butted heads with her mother several times upon her parents' return until she was able to step back from that role sufficiently, and peace had returned to the family.

Nyota looked down for a moment and then brought her gaze back to Jim's as she reached for his hand again. This time, he reached back, their hands meeting in the middle of the table. Her heart soared at that—she was well and truly forgiven—and she said, "I'm so sorry, Jim. I couldn't stop acting like a mom when I got back. So that's a reason, but not an excuse, for my behavior." She looked over at Spock but didn't let go of Jim's hand as she said, "Spock's an adult, a grown man, and I don't need to fuss over him like that." Spock inclined his head toward her and gave her a slow, tiny smile.

Jim returned the gentle pressure of her hand. He had a sudden, almost guilty realization; before this, she had seemed, well, almost impossibly _perfect_ in every way, but now her over-reaction had made her seem less so, made her seem more like him, more like a normal, fallible human being, someone he could really be friends with. He would never say so to her, but it was somehow oddly relieving to know this. Aloud he replied, "Ny, it's really OK. Although I can't say I'm _glad_ that this happened, I think I can say that our friendship is stronger than it was before, and that's a _good_ thing. It's been tested by fire, and we're still, well…" He had to stop as a lump rose in his throat, so he simply gestured between them with his other hand. She nodded to show she understood.

He paused, momentarily overwhelmed thinking of how precious his friends were to him, how precious _friendship_ was, and he wondered for the umpteenth time at people who disregarded the importance of these relationships, the people who said dismissively that another person was "only" a friend. He knew what some of them meant—that is wasn't a romantic relationship or a family tie—and he knew that he had, and probably would again, use the phrase in that same way. But still, there were was nothing "only" about friendship, and he resolved to be more mindful of how he referred to his friends in the future.

He now managed to regain his voice, and he blurted out, "Anyway, thank you guys for being my friends…" Spock and Nyota's near-unison reply of, "You're welcome, Jim," made them all laugh. (Well, the two full humans laughed, while the half-human's eyes twinkled with open amusement, which was a close as he got to actual laughter.) Spock indicated his agreement with a head-tilt in Jim's direction, and Nyota said, "Right back at 'cha" before releasing his hand.

They sat for a moment in companionable silence before the conversation picked up more-or-less from where they had left off. They talked for a bit longer and then Spock said, "As pleasant as this is, I must ask that you excuse me, as there is something I must attend to before second watch begins." He turned toward Jim and asked, "Shall I see you on the bridge later, Jim?" and the captain's heart gave another of those tiny jumps. Rather than think about what this might mean, he grinned in response and said, "Count on it."

He expected Spock to get up at that point, but he didn't, he just continued sitting there, fixing his captain with a slightly odd look, while Jim gazed back at him in mild surprise. The man then gave one tiny nod, and Jim finally got it. He grinned at his first officer and then reached toward him, briefly settling his hand on the man's back as he said, "See you later, Spock," and he was gratified to feel his friend lean into his touch. (Hmm, no buzzing in his fingers, though—that must have been some kind of weird fluke.) As the captain dropped his hand, the half-Vulcan rose to his feet. He nodded at them and said, "Jim, Nyota," and he then was heading for the door.

Jim found his eyes following Spock to the door, and when he looked back at Nyota, she was giving him another grin. Not sure what that was all about, he flushed slightly and asked her, "What?"

Nyota didn't say anything, just tried to rein in her smile as she shook her head. Bones had told her the captain and first officer were becoming physically affectionate with each other, and she had just seen ample evidence of it with her own eyes. Spock had not only put his hand on Jim's back (and what was _that_, the slight buzzing she had felt from Jim's fingers when they were all three connected?), and then later had deliberately leaned against him. Plus, he had actually more or less asked the man to touch him. And the captain had instantly understood what Spock had meant by that little nod and had happily complied. Her mind flew again to what she had realized the previous night while talking to Spock, that there was now a level of connection between the two men that far surpassed what there had been when she had left to help the refugees. In addition to their growing emotional attachment, the physical connection forming between them was a good thing, she thought, and she wanted to encourage it. She just needed to decide how to do it…

As she sat thinking it over, Jim continued with his breakfast. Normally he would be finished after this length of time, but he had been eating more slowly than normal, just savoring the day. Nyota let him eat for a little while, and then she smiled and surprised him by coming out with, "I want to thank you for being willing to touch him." Jim started slightly and colored again, more deeply this time than before, as he somehow managed not to choke on his bite of muffin. She went on, "It didn't even occur to me to mention it before, what with your both being guys and all, but I think it may be something he really needs. He wants to be so Vulcan, but he _is_ half human, and it seems likely to me he really needs a certain amount of physical contact."

Jim had continued eating, but now he said around a mouthful, "Twef hucks." She raised an eyebrow at him and asked, "Excuse me?" He swallowed and managed to enunciate, "Twelve hugs. That's how many hugs researchers say people need every day to be emotionally healthy." He paused and considered. "But since he's half Vulcan, I don't know if that's the right number for him or if he needs more or less than that," he said. His look then turned thoughtful and he continued, "On the face of it, you'd think that would mean he'd only needed half that number, but I don't know…maybe he actually needs _more_ that than, to…you know, help his human side deal with the repressed Vulcan that's also in there."

Nyota smiled at his quip, but then she almost started, remembering a time not long after she and Spock had begun their physical relationship, and they had had a week-long break from the Academy. Citing personal reasons, he had somehow managed to clear his schedule completely, leaving him free to be with her and only her for the whole seven days. They had spent almost the entire time with the two of them literally wrapped around each other, as if he were trying to make up for some of those lost hugs. She came back to the present when, after a pause, Jim teased, with a gleam in his eye and a wink, "In any case, we're not nearly up to even half that number yet, but I'm working on it."

He had said this as a joke, Nyota was sure. But yet there was something in his manner…was it only her imagination, or did she really sense a slight hint of something else? Was it possible? Was the captain maybe…? But after a moment, she dismissed this idea as being highly unlikely. Probably, she was reading _way_ too much in it, and the statement had just been a joke. She decided to respond in kind and replied, "Good work, Ensign. See that you do." He blushed furiously then, and at a loss for any other response, answered, "Aye, aye sir!"

Before either Nyota or Jim could wonder too much why the captain was blushing at the thought of working up to twelve hugs a day (or more) with his first officer, McCoy joined them. He had been close enough to see their friendly manner, although not close enough to hear what they said. He thought, _Well, good; things had obviously been resolved between them_. With a broad smile, he plopped down next to the captain.

Nyota said, "Good morning, Lenny." Jim turned to look at Bones, raised an eyebrow at him and mouthed silently, "'Lenny'?"

The doctor just raised an eyebrow back and shrugged before saying, "Good morning, Jim, Ny-chan."

Jim sat up very straight, leveled a look of delighted surprise at her and piped up, "He gets to call you Ny-chan? Oooh, I want to call you that, too! Can I, can I—pleeeaase?"

She had to laugh at that, but she still said, "Well…you _may_, as long as you ask me properly…"

Jim rolled his eyes but took it in stride and asked, "Please, Mother, _may_ I?" echoing her deliberate stressing of the word, while referencing the ancient children's grammar game.

She laughed again and said, "Oh, alright; you may call me Ny-chan."

Jim practically glowed when he replied, "Thanks, Ny-chan!"

Bones looked fondly between the two of them before settling his gaze on Nyota and saying, "See, I told you that name suits you…" and then the three of them were off in friendly conversation.

After a while, Nyota said, "I've got to get going. Jim, Lenny, I'll see you later."

Bones said, "Yeah, see ya," and Jim finished, "Later."

She stood up chuckling and then asked the captain, "See you on the bridge this morning?" He nodded and said, "Yes, Captain Uhura," as she laughed again, turned and started for the door.

Bones raised an eyebrow at him and queried, "_Captain_ Uhura?"

It was Jim's turn to shrug as he gave the non-answer of, "You kinda had to be there."

Bones sighed and said, "OK," before starting his attack on his breakfast. True to type, this was filled with all the high-cholesterol foods he told Jim to steer clear of: fried eggs, bacon, hash browns, toast and butter, all washed down with orange juice and black coffee. At his friend's chiding glance, the doctor shrugged again and said, "Hey, I need this kind of energy to deal with _you_, ya know, so don't go giving me that look. Besides, there's lots of acid in the OJ to help me digest all the fat…"

The captain rolled his eyes but kept his peace. He had finished by this time, so he pushed his plate aside and leaned his arms on the table. He had been smiling but now his expression turned serious, and he said, "Bones, I have to thank you for whatever it was that you said to Uhura…I mean, Ny-chan. I think that got her calmed down enough to listen to some stuff Spock was trying to tell her…and well, anyway, we're fine now, all friends again."

The doctor replied, "Glad I could help. And I'm glad it's out of the way before that, umm…" he looked around them before finishing, "…that thing this evening." The mess hall was now full of people getting breakfast before going on duty for second watch; the empty spaces around their table had filled up, and Chekov was sitting just one table over. He wasn't paying any attention to them now, but he would be if he heard his name.

Jim looked at McCoy blankly and repeated, "Thing this evening?" as a slight question.

Bones grimaced/frowned at him and said in a low, insistent tone, "You know, that _thing_," as he shot a covert glance in Chekov's direction.

The captain's eyes widened in recollection, and he nodded sagely then and said, "Oh, yeah, the _thing_, the thing. I remember now." He did, too, and he felt a rush of gratitude that events had worked out so that he could just relax and enjoy the evening's festivities.

"Sheesh, about damn time!" his friend groused.

Jim replied, "Come on, give me a break! I've kind of had my mind on other things the last day or so." That reminded him of where they had started this conversation, and he said, "But, seriously, Bones, I owe you. Once again, you helped save my ass."

Bones waved a hand dismissively and said, "Hell, that's what friends are for…to accumulate personal debts and return favors!" he kidded. They both laughed, but then the doctor briefly turned became serious again as he said, "Actually, glad to do it, glad to do it."

The captain clapped him on the shoulder and said, "Well, thanks, man." He looked around him and stretched before standing up. "I've got to get going now, Bones. See you, uh…later?" while glancing surreptitiously in Chekov's direction. The young navigator helpfully continued to ignore them.

McCoy nodded and said, "Sure thing, Jimbo. Have a good day."

"You, too…Bonsey-wonsey," he retorted as he ducked the fragment of toast his friend launched at him with a muffled oath, and then he dashed laughing for the door. More than a few crew members looked at him in surprise, but then they grinned after him. Whatever had been bothering the captain recently had apparently been dealt with and now everything was right with the ship. The sunshine was back.

* * *

**Author's note:** Just a short one with this chapter. I'm not making up the bit about researchers saying that people need 12 hugs a day to be emotionally healthy. My own informal research indicates that they're probably right, but just in case that number is too low, I'm erring on the side of caution and getting as many in a day as I can. More hugs for everyone!


	9. Surprise!

**Disclaimer: I don't own nuttin', not no way, not no how**

**Author's Note: ** More author's notes at the end, but this one belongs here. There's a steal from one of my favorite cartoon shows in this chapter, along with a steal from a very silly movie. Can anybody spot them? (Hint: they appear pretty close to the beginning of the chapter, in consecutive paragraphs.)

* * *

Chapter 9: Surprise!

Spock, Nyota, Sulu, and Chekov all reported to the bridge at the start of second watch, and the captain joined them to take the conn. There was an almost palpable feeling of excitement in the air because it was Party Day! (Oh, and incidentally, Chekov's birthday—what a great excuse!) Even for a person with his youthful enthusiasm, the young navigator certainly felt unusually keyed up, which was fortunate because, as a result, he thought the charged feeling around him was simply his own excitement. As far as anyone could tell, he was completely in the dark about the party; so far, the surprise was holding.

They were in their sixth day of orbit around Mori, a heavily-forested planet with one small human scientific colony that was studying the arboreal ecosphere. The _Enterprise_ had brought needed equipment and supplies for the colony, and the crew had spent two days ferrying the cargo to the surface and helping set up an expanded laboratory facility. Mori was also one of the planets they were supposed to survey, and they were now on their fourth and last day of scans, as they were due to depart the next day after all the data had been checked for completeness.

Mori had some very interesting and unusual geology; minerals that almost never occurred together on Earth, like beryl within dolomitic limestone, for instance, were found intermingled in large quantities. And there were some very odd things about the planet's magnetic and gravitational fields, too. At first, these had necessitated constant tweaks to the software to get the best scans, but that work was over, and now they were simply free to examine the incoming data.

Spock was at the science station, intent on doing some analysis when Jim got up from the command chair, stretched, and then went over to him to ask if the results of the scans were as expected (translation: time to bother Spock). This was partly to break up working on some of his administrative tasks—still usually called "paperwork" even though there was rarely any actual paper involved except when hard copies were needed to absolutely guard against unauthorized alterations to such things as official treaties—and partly because he just wanted an excuse to stand close to his first officer. Sure, in his mind, he called it "making sure they were getting all the information they needed" but as Spock would have already made any necessary adjustment to achieve that goal, and he knew it, in truth, it was purely to be next to the man.

As he often did, the first officer was standing bent over his console. Jim strolled over to him and stopped well inside his personal space. Spock straightened up when he felt his captain next to him but he made no move to put any distance between them.

Jim leaned in even closer so he could look over the data on the console (yeah, that was it, so he could look at the data) and then he asked, "What 'cha doin'?" in a somewhat sing-songy voice. This caused Spock to look sideways at him, a slight gleam of amusement in his eye, and he said, "Attempting to complete this analysis, Captain." Had he turned his head, their faces would have been mere inches apart.

Jim leaned back to his original position (still so close, so close) and replied, "Maybe I can help," while Spock shot him a frank look that, had he been completely human, would have said, "Yeah? And maybe monkeys will fly out of my butt!" But as he was half-Vulcan, his look said more, "I calculate that your offer of assistance in this matter has 98.6% chance of delaying the completion of the task, seeing as your primary purpose is to distract yourself from your paperwork." He was getting to know his captain very well indeed. He could also have given Jim a look that said, "Your nearness is highly distracting to me, but I will not move nor ask you to move, despite the fact that it will increase the time needed to conclude the work," but he was fiercely suppressing those thoughts.

Aloud he said, "Thank you, Captain, but that will not be necessary. I believe I can finish the analysis within 20 minutes if you do not assist me…and in perhaps 30 minutes if you do." Jim knew full well this was a joke (well, almost, although it did happen to be true) but he mock-pouted anyway. Even though he knew the captain was not really upset, Spock felt a little twist inside anyway at the thought of disappointing him. He could have ignored his emotional response, but instead he found himself visibly relenting and he said, "However, if you wish, you may remain while I explain the significance of the data as I work through the analysis."

Jim brightened visibly and enthused, "Really? You've got yourself a deal!"

Spock went back to work, applying himself with equal diligence to his analysis and his running commentary to the captain. Naturally, though, it wasn't his fault if some of it was complex and required additional explanation, which for some reason necessitated his leaning closer to the man in his turn. No, not his fault at all.

Sulu and Chekov were absorbed in a quiet, intermittent conversation of their own in between moving the ship to their next scanning target, and the pair were oblivious to what was going on between their commanding officers. But Nyota's communications station was right next to the science station, and she could not help but notice the ongoing interaction between the commander and the captain. She saw how close they were standing to each other and how Spock showed no sign of distress, despite the fact that Jim was inside the invisible boundary that normally surrounded the half-Vulcan.

The idea that she had dismissed at breakfast, that Jim might be attracted to his first officer, suddenly looked not only possible, but actually probable. And further, she began to wonder if the attraction went in both directions. Certainly Spock was quite open to physical contact with the captain and was allowing Jim other liberties that she had never seen him grant anyone else, but she couldn't be certain what this meant. Well, she'd just have to wait and see.

After the predicted 30 minutes (actually, 32.35 minutes), Spock finished his current analysis and moved to start on another, and Jim wandered back to the command chair to resume plowing through his paperwork. It was a quiet time for him, too, and so a good chance to catch up on his least favorite part of the job. Second watch continued passing unremarkably. There was an air of building anticipation on the part of a certain navigator, but mostly it was a quiet day as far as the rest of the bridge crew was concerned.

At one hour to go, Chekov quietly took a dose of Alco-Blok so that it had time to take full effect before he joined Sulu at the end of his watch. The medication had been developed by an enterprising chemist for people who wanted to appear to be able to "hold their liquor," as this "skill" was important when dealing with some cultures and races. But Chekov took it because it would allow him to consume a fair quantity of alcohol and still not damage his young brain. And tonight, he thought there might be a some number of other people besides Sulu who wanted to have a drink with him, as the bar in the rec room was a popular place, and it was well known that he was turning 18 today. He would feel some of the effects of the vodka he was going to consume, but his system would be protected from the worst of the harm it could do.

Chekov thought this was a wise decision, given that he would perhaps have more drinks urged on him tonight than at any other time in his life (with the possible exception of a hypothetical bachelor party before a hypothetical wedding to a completely hypothetical fiancée), and he had no intention of getting completely hammered. He'd seen enough of that with his classmates at the Academy to know he probably wouldn't enjoy being really drunk much at all. A pleasant buzz sounded nice, but shedding ones clothing while running through the corridors or puking on one's own shoes? Not so much.

Sulu's replacement, Ensign Marin, arrived right on schedule, 45 minutes before second watch ended. The helmsman couldn't think of a better line than the one they'd come up with in Jim's office, so he turned to Chekov and said, "See ya soon, birthday boy," before leaving for his supposed conference call. Step one of the plot had been successfully carried out.

Those 45 minutes passed very slowly for Chekov, as he was more or less counting down the minutes until he was off duty and could join Sulu in the C Deck rec room. But with just two minutes to go, Commander Spock suddenly addressed him. "Ensign Chekov, the quarterly check of the helm controls has been scheduled to take place today during third watch. I would like you to remain and assist with that task." The ensign could not quite hide his look of dismay, and Spock raised an eyebrow at him and asked, "Is there a problem with that, Ensign?" using his most expressionless voice, but somehow managing to make it sound severely disapproving at the same time—he could be very coldly Vulcan when he wanted to be.

Chekov managed to smooth out his expression and answer in as neutral a voice as he could manage, "No, sir." The only drawback with the delay, apart from his impatience, was that he would have to take another dose of Alco-Blok at some point during the evening if the check took too long, but he could handle that.

Spock then turned to Ensign Marin and said, "You will observe the procedure. At the next quarterly check, you will perform it yourself." His tones were clipped and completely business-like.

Chekov's own replacement, Ensign Paul Jaeger came onto the bridge at that point and took a position at one of the empty consoles along the wall. The young navigator covertly shot the commander a look of resentment. He was understandably eager to get to the rec room, and here was yet another person who could have assisted with the helm control check, but he was apparently going to be stuck doing it. He suppressed a sigh and turned his attention to getting through the check routine with the commander.

Spock, who had a strong tendency to do everything "by the book" anyway, managed to drag the check out as long as possible by insisting that every step be done in the most exacting way imaginable, even making the poor ensign redo a number of the tests. When the half-Vulcan finally declared that they were done, Chekov was so frustrated he was almost fit to pop. Ensign Gyo, once again Spock's own replacement as science office, was now on the bridge, as was Lt. Helen Giannopoulos (pronounced "Yannopoulos"), who was assigned to the conn for third watch. Both Chekov and Spock were now free to leave.

As pre-arranged, Ensign Marin remarked "Happy birthday, Mr. Chekov," and he nodded and thanked her, his mood lightening instantly. She then asked, "Are you meeting Lt. Sulu somewhere to celebrate? He said that he'd see you later when he left…" She somehow managed to keep a straight face, as she, of course, knew what was up. But she managed to not spill the beans, wanting very much for him to be surprised when he got to the rec room. When their temporary relief arrived, she would have a short time at the party herself, along with the rest of the third watch bridge crew, and she was looking forward to telling him about her part in the set-up. There'd be no alcohol for them, of course, because they'd be going back to duty on the bridge, but that didn't matter—a party was a party!

Apparently not suspecting a thing, Chekov replied, "Da, I am meeting him in the C Deck rec room. Finally, I get to have wodka!"

She laughed and said, "Have fun, birthday boy!"

He was on the point of thanking her again when Spock said, "Ah, Lt. Sulu is in the C Deck recreation room, then. I need to consult with him on these results. I will accompany you." He was improvising a bit here—they hadn't actually come up with a reason that he needed to see Sulu when they were planning the campaign in Jim's office—but this seemed logical.

Chekov stared at him in dismay and almost tripped over his own feet as they walked to the turbolift. What could the Vulcan commander possibly want to consult Sulu about over those damned results? They had been checked and rechecked until he was thoroughly sick of them. And now the commander was going to tie Sulu up, for who know how long? He decided as they both got into the lift that he couldn't stand to be in the man's presence for one second longer than necessary. He would get off on the deck where his quarters were now and just go to the rec room later—Sulu might now be busy for hours, if the way Mr. Spock had had him conduct the helm control check was any indication.

He spoke abruptly, "A Deck, Bay 7," almost spitting out the words to the lift genie. Of course, he knew there was no such thing, but when the ship was being repaired after the _Narada_, the lift had been upgraded to have voice control, in addition to the button controls. It was a cool new thing, and in his mind, it was simply fun to pretend there was someone listening to him inside this little box.

Spock turned to look at him, barely covering his surprise, and asked, "Are you not going to meet Mr. Sulu in the C Deck recreation room, as you discussed with Ensign Marin on the bridge?"

Chekov looked at him sideways and said, "I will call him when I get to my quarters and arrange to meet him later, Kommander."

Spock started flailing verbally. "Will he not be disappointed that you are postponing your engagement?" He knew this was the wrong thing to say when Chekov shot him a look that clearly said, "Yeah, well, that's already happened, and just whose fault is _that_? You kept me in there an extra 30 minutes at least!" before saying aloud, "He will understand." Yes, Sulu certainly would. Chekov knew for a fact that the commander drove them both crazy on occasion, and this incident today would become one of those things which they could commiserate over.

The half-Vulcan realized that he would have to improvise or he was going to fail in his mission to get Chekov to the party. In his best commander's voice, he barked, "Over-ride last command. Proceed to C Deck, Bay 4," the closest stop to the rec room, and the turbolift obediently by-passed Chekov's destination. The computer's voice recognition software had correctly placed Spock as the higher ranking officer and had automatically caused the lift to obey his orders.

The ensign was so surprised, he just stared at the first officer in open-mouthed shock. He was unable to find his voice until the lift stopped and Spock was hustling him out of it, one hand clamped tightly around the back of one of his arms just above the elbow. Chekov said, not quite shouting, "Let me go!" adding as an afterthought, "Sir!" while trying to escape from the half-Vulcan's grasp.

Spock's response was to raise his shields to maximum (a precaution against any accidental transmission of strong emotions) and then tighten his hand to a vice-like grip. He kept them walking as he said in a very low voice, "Do not struggle, Ensign. I am far stronger than are you, and you will only become bruised." He believed he was almost on solid ground here. For according to Starfleet regulations, while it was not permissible to strike a fellow officer, it _was_ permissible to use "any reasonable means" to see that orders were carried out, and he considered frog-marching Chekov down the corridor to be "reasonable," in light of his charge as the diversion agent.

The "almost" part was because he had not actually been _ordered_ to participate, but he saw it as a duty, none the less—and he had even called it so in front of the captain, and the man had not corrected him—so he felt his actions were justified. It was the only way he could think of to get the ensign to the party without simply telling him about the surprise, and he really didn't want to do that, so he forged ahead with the shocked teenager in tow. Yes, Chekov could report the incident, but somehow, Spock doubted very much that he would, thinking instead that, in all likelihood, the young man would decide in this case, the end (his actually being surprised) justified the means (being man-handled to the door).

Chekov was considering shouting for help—obviously, something had disturbed the first officer's mind for him to be acting so strangely—but there didn't seem to be anyone else about. Spock, however, was grateful for this, as he did not relish the thought of being seen by random crew members while he was dragging an unwilling Chekov through the corridors of C Deck.

The half-Vulcan never looked at the man he was lugging along beside him until the C Deck rec room door was finally before them. He turned then and was momentarily taken aback by the amount of anger showing on Chekov's face. He recovered himself and said, "Clear your expression, Ensign." At that, the younger man's look became almost a scowl, and he was about to ask, "Why should I?!" when the commander spoke again, this time saying in a quiet voice, "Trust me, you do not want to appear angry when this door opens."

Chekov's face was now reflecting bum-fuzzled amazement as Spock released his vice-like grip and then extended that arm behind the man beside him to block any attempted escape. He simultaneously punched in a special door code that would trigger a flashing light inside, alerting the waiting people to their arrival. The party conspirators had taken advantage of the fact that all doors had both auto-open and key-pad-access modes (for daily convenience and emergency security), and that the key pads could have multiple numbers programmed into them at the same time. In addition to the normal code that all crew members had for the rec room, Ensign Bishara from the Security Department had simply programmed in an additional key code that tripped the flashing light and then, after a short delay, unlocked the door.

The door finally slid open, and Chekov was suddenly hit with a wall of sound as his waiting shipmates all yelled, "Surprise!" at the top of their lungs. His face made it plain that he _was_ surprised, there was no doubt at all about that. Spock felt a wave of relief that he had managed to get the ensign to the rec room without ruining the surprise. It had been a near thing there for a while, and if Chekov had put up any more resistance, he thought it quite likely that he would have felt compelled to tell him what was going on. But it hadn't come to that, and he was glad, looking at the teenager's now-glowing face. So, Jim and Sulu were right: this _was_ something that the vic… err, _honorees_ really did appreciate.

Chekov swiveled his head around to stare at his commander, and his face momentarily went slack with surprise when the half-Vulcan gazed back at him with both corners of his mouth quirked up ever so slightly. He then inclined his head as if to say, "Well then, happy birthday," before the ensign was gone, swept away in a sea of happy revelers to have his "first wodka" (as well as his second and his third…)

Spock breathed a shaky sigh of relief and looked around for Jim. The captain was over at the side of the room in a clear space where he could easily be seen, and he waved when the half-Vulcan looked in his direction. The first officer skirted the crowd around Chekov as he made his way over to his friend. He put his hands behind his back as he approached and then turned to stand beside him, looking at the exuberant scene before them. He had not consciously meant to, but he somehow had stopped extremely close to his captain, almost touching him, and when he realized it, he could not make himself move away.

They both knew this was not his normal behavior, and Jim looked at him with some concern as the half-Vulcan took a few deep breaths. Spock dropped his shields then, as it took energy and concentration to maintain them at maximum level, and they simply were not needed here, next to his friend, away from the crowd. He would need to summon the energy to rebuild his shields at least to some extent before he went back into the throng, but for now, he didn't need them.

Spock simply stood next to Jim for a few moments, breathing deeply, not intending to move any closer to his captain than he was now, not intending to actually touch him. But his body seemed to have a will of its own, and he suddenly found himself shifting his weight slightly—and his shoulder was once again pressed up against Jim's. At the contact, he thought briefly about rebuilding his shields right then, but he was feeling unexpectedly drained, and so he did not. He told himself that logically, he needed to reserve energy to reestablish the shields when they were really needed, when he went back out into the crowd. But a truer, less acknowledged reason was that he found himself simply unable to care enough about protecting his internal privacy from Jim to make the effort. So perhaps there would be some emotional transfer from their contact, but he knew it would be alright. This was _Jim_, and he would not judge.

After another moment of simply breathing and leaning against his friend, Spock turned to gaze at him with the same strange look he had worn right before they had parted at breakfast, and then he gave one tiny nod, just as he had that morning.

Jim's heart gave a slightly harder thump than had become normal in these situations, but he steadfastly refused to examine anything about the feeling as he focused his attention on Spock and took the hint that he should reciprocate. As unobtrusively as he could—well, Spock had started this, but Jim thought it was only because, a) the half-Vulcan was incredibly wound up, b) he had apparently judged that the benefit he would get from the contact was worth any potential public notice, and finally, c) it didn't look like anyone was paying them the least bit of attention anyway—he laid a hand on his friend's back and just left if there while the man continued breathing deeply.

As soon as he made contact, Jim was aware of an intense feeling of anxiety that curled through his gut before it slowly began to lessen. He was next to certain that it was something he was actually picking up from Spock rather than its being a projection of an overactive imagination. Then he suddenly _knew_ that he was not imagining the things he was thought he was feeling from his friend, as once again, there was that slight buzzing sensation in the index and middle fingers of both hands. The feeling was stronger in the hand that was in contact with the half-Vulcan, as it had been that morning with the fingers that were clasped in Nyota's when Spock had put a hand on his back and that flood of happiness had cascaded through them all. And with this second experience, he realized that the buzzing phenomena was connected to picking up strong emotions that his first officer was either unable or unwilling to contain, emotions strong enough to transfer right through the barrier normally presented by cloth.

Although he was gratified to feel the tension slowly leaking out of his friend, the captain could not help but notice that Spock was significantly more stressed than he had expected him to be, and he wondered if being the diversion agent had just been harder on his first officer than he had anticipated or if something had gone wrong. Well, they could talk about it later. For now it was enough to feel the half-Vulcan slowly relax under his hand, to feel that sick tension dissipate, and the man's back expand and contract as he breathed away most of the remaining stress he felt.

Giotto had been scanning the room, alert as always at large social occasions—he took his job as Security Chief very seriously—when his gaze fell on the captain and the first officer on their own at the edge of the crowd, standing very close together. His attention was immediately caught by Spock, visibly radiating distress. And although he soon determined that there was no actual threat to either man, he remained watching them out of curiosity. He had perfected the art of looking without appearing to look, and he was fairly certain they were unaware they were being observed (or alternately, that they knew and simply didn't care).

As he watched, the first officer leaned over against the captain, and then as Jim's hand settled on the man's back, he saw Spock's eyelids flutter closed, his minute look of tension slowly replaced by one that was openly almost blissful. For his part, the captain was totally focused on his friend, concern and tenderness and a profound desire to help plainly communicated to Giotto by his face and stance.

Jim was generally quite expressive, so that was really nothing unusual, but to see Spock in such a rare, unguarded moment… Because of his profession, as well as a natural inclination towards active people-watching, Giotto was much more aware than most people would be of the subtle facial and body-language clues that his shipmates gave off. He had had ample occasions to observe the captain and the first officer, primarily in the mess hall, and he had thought for a while now that they were quite likely attracted to each other.

To his keen observation, the captain was practically an open book, and his skills allowed him to interpret the tiny expressions and body movements that Spock let slip as well. There were the slight blushes that sometimes appeared at odd moments when they conversed, the intent stares and covert glances under lowered lashes. In addition, there was the fact that the captain could be next to the half-Vulcan inside the barrier that kept nearly everyone else out. And there was the plain fact that they spent almost all of their spare time together.

Of course, Giotto knew that Spock had been in a relationship with Nyota, and he was quite aware of Jim's well-deserved reputation as a ladies' man. But, he also knew that the body does not lie, and now that he had seen them standing together as they had—the first time he had seen them in physical contact since they had started to become friends—he knew he had been right about them. These men were two of his favorite people, though for quite different reasons, and he felt a very pleasant warmth growing in his chest as he looked-without-looking, and he had a hard time not letting his huge internal grin spread to his face.

Although he had had his own troubles with Jim in the past, his opinion had begun to change while they were fighting the _Narada. S_ince then, he had come to love this man as he loved few other people, and he and the captain were now fast friends. Kirk had been a surprisingly good captain, serious about their missions and dedicated to finding the best outcome in every situation they had yet faced; he was fair and even-handed with the crew, and it was plain he truly cared about every single one of the people under his command. And the security chief had always had a soft spot for the lonely Vulcan first officer, as he himself came from a large family with an extensive network of friends, and he wished he could do something to help the man. He had even made somewhat of an attempt to befriend the half-Vulcan, but he had not managed to get very far. But now, if the commander and the captain could get together, that loneliness would be a thing of the past.

Out of the corner of his eye, Giotto became aware that Nyota was now looking in their direction. He was pretty sure she had been tumbling to the truth, too, if the look he currently saw on her face was any indication: surprise, but not shock, followed by a slow smile that was turning into a cautious grin as she gazed at the two men.

Then in one of those intuitive leaps, he knew, absolutely _knew_,that the captain and the commander were both completely clueless as to their own and the other's true feelings. And Giotto suspected, somehow, that they would go on being clueless for some time, certainly about the other's feelings, and probably their own as well.

This wasn't really so surprising because, after all, it _was_ two guys here, for sensitive as he thought they both were underneath their different masks—the first officer, supposedly so emotionless; the brashly confident captain hiding a core of hurt—they both were, well…_guys_. But, he thought they'd get past that stage on their own, eventually…probably. And if they didn't, well, maybe he'd have to consult with Nyota on figuring out a way to help things along. He'd been carrying a bit of a torch for her since he "defended her honor" from Jim's lecherous intentions at the Shipyard Bar in Iowa, and he had been wanting an excuse to approach her, now that she was single. And what better opportunity than a chance to play matchmaker for these two men, who both deserved so much happiness for what they had done?

Sure of his conclusions and his decision, Giotto let his attention slide elsewhere.

Either never aware (or simply not caring) that they had been observed, after a few minutes, Spock turned to his friend and said, "Thank you, Jim,"

The captain grinned and patted him on the back before removing his hand; as he did, the buzzing in his fingers stopped. He then said, "Thanks for being such a good sport about your role in all this, Spock; I know it wasn't easy for you, and I want to hear all about it after this is over…if you want to tell me, that is," he amended quickly.

Spock did, in fact, very much want to recount the recent events to the captain, but as the human phrase "You don't know the half of it!" came into his mind, he recognized the wisdom of waiting. So he merely nodded and said, "That would be acceptable." Then he turned his attention to the present event. As distressing as his time getting Chekov to the party had been, now that he was calmer after his contact with Jim, Spock decided the best way to get past any lingering stress was to focus on something else. He paused to rebuild his shields and then said, "I believe I am now ready to put some of your advice into action."

Jim gave him a huge smile and said, "Good man—go do your best! Just come find me if you need to take a break from the general melee." Spock inclined his head in acknowledgment and thanks and then walked off to find someone to talk to.

As he looked around the room, he spotted Lt. Donald Samuels, one of the new Engineering officers on their current voyage, and he decided to try the first piece of advice. Going up to the man, he greeted him and after his stammered response, Spock asked how he was adjusting to life on board ship. Samuels almost squeaked when he replied, "Fine, sir," and then he clammed up, just as the half-Vulcan had feared. Spock tried the supposed remedy for this answer—asking the man what he liked best about it—but this failed to bring more than a strangled, "Uh, _everything_, sir." Recognizing a lost cause, the first officer replied, "Very good, Lieutenant; I hope you enjoy yourself tonight."

The crowd around Chekov had now thinned and Spock looked over to see the man looking back at him with an embarrassed expression on his face. Not wanting this to grow into a continuing issue, the first officer decided to clear the air immediately, so he went over to the ensign. He began, "Mr. Chekov, I believe I owe you an apology…" before the man waved his hands in a distressed manner and interrupted, "No, no, Kommander, it is _I_ who owe you an apology; please beliewe me that I newer intended…if I'd had any idea what you were doing…"

Spock interrupted Chekov in his own turn by saying, "Ensign, let us agree that it was a difficult situation that both of us handled in the best way we could, given our knowledge at the time. And now let us put this incident behind us." Chekov nodded gratefully and said, "Aye, sir, of course, sir; thank you, sir." At that Spock nodded to him and said, "Happy birthday, Mr. Chekov," and the man called back, "Thank you, sir!" as he was swept up in another group of well-wishers.

That potentially uncomfortable point dealt with, Spock migrated to the outskirts of the milling crowd and considered what to do next. His first attempt at interacting with a crew member had not gone as well as he had hoped, and he was feeling the strain. But the knot in his stomach uncurled when he looked across at Jim, engaged in talking to Giotto. Perhaps feeling Spock's eyes on him, or perhaps just checking to see if his first officer was doing alright, the captain glanced around the room and upon spotting his friend, cheerfully waved him over.

Spock joined the two men, this time managing to stop a respectably normal distance from Jim. After they all greeted each other, he listened while the captain and the security chief resumed their conversation about Manchester United, a football team they both followed. He wondered why Giotto would occasionally glance from the captain to himself while trying to hide a huge grin, but he shrugged it off as another one of those human oddities he would perhaps never understand. He focused on the conversation instead, and once or twice he asked a question, but otherwise he was content to just listen. Before long, Giotto excused himself to get another drink, and he was left alone with his friend. Jim then turned to him and asked, "Everything OK there, Spock?"

The half-Vulcan did not want to make the captain uncomfortable by telling him that his first attempt at following his friend's advice had been rather a disaster, so he settled on, "I expect there is a learning curve to this endeavor."

Jim, reading between the lines replied, "Well, the best thing is to just get right back on that horse…" He paused at his first officer's look of slight confusion at the unfamiliar idiom. Spock's mother had seen to it that he was familiar with many such expressions, logically arguing the necessity with his reluctant father, should their son ever decide to settle with her kind—a wise decision, as it turned out.

The half-Vulcan had now lived with humans long enough to have learned many idiomatic sayings, but this one was new to him, so the captain explained, "It refers to the fact that, after a horse has bucked you off or after a fall, the best thing to do is to get right back on it immediately, as a way of getting past the fear of falling off or being thrown. 'Cuz if you don't, you might never get the courage to try again. Course, it's not generally meant in a literal sense so much these days—as you probably noticed, there's a distinct lack of horses on the ship—but you can see how it applies to the situation at hand, right?"

Spock nodded gravely, although there was a twinkle in his eye as he asked, "Would this animal be the fabled 'horse of a different color'?"

His friend laughed and replied with a wink, "No, that's another beast entirely!" neatly bringing the idiom full circle. He continued, "But, really, Spock, I think you'll do just fine."

Jim paused, debating whether to bring this up, but then decided that he would; his friend could always say "No" if he didn't want to try it. He said, "You know, Spock, I did arrange for there to be some really good chocolate; it's vegan, really dark, 70% cocoa, just a little sweet…" he trailed off and looked at his friend questioningly. When the man hesitated, he added, "Might take the edge off."

Spock considered for a moment before realizing that he was really too nervous to trust having any chocolate, not knowing how he would react, and besides, he thought he needed all his wits about him just now. He replied, "I do not think that wise at the present time." But at the captain's somewhat disappointed look he added, "But perhaps we can take some with us to the officer's lounge when we depart the recreation room?"

Jim brightened visibly and gave him an enormous smile as he replied, "You got it!"

The half-Vulcan felt part of his insides melt at that smile, but he quickly shifted his focus away from such things and said, "Thank you, Jim." After a slight pause, he went on, "And now, I think, as you suggested, I shall get back on that horse."

Jim answered, "That's it, Spock! Go for it!" His friend nodded and went back into the fray. Perhaps this encounter would go more smoothly.

Spock looked around the room and decided, why not? Why not try the second bit of advice, talking to someone with a similar interest? He spotted Ensign Westerby and found himself heading in his direction. As he walked over, he realized that he had initially tried to connect with a lieutenant, reasoning that the older, more experienced officer would be more socially at ease than an ensign. But, then he realized that he had neglected to account for personalities. Lt. Samuels appeared to be almost as shy as Spock himself, occasionally speaking to someone but otherwise shifting somewhat uncomfortably around the edges of the gathering. In contrast, Spock had noticed that Ensign Westerby was usually in the midst of a laughing crowd, and he thought this might be an encouraging sign that the man might be easier to talk to.

By chance, the ensign was currently alone as the first officer approached him. He said, "Good evening, Ensign Westerby." The ensign, after almost dropping his drink in surprise, recovered quickly and replied, "Good evening, Commander Spock." Westerby was also new with this voyage, so the half-Vulcan decided to try the how-are-you-doing-with-life-on-the-ship question again—hopefully it would go better this time.

To his initial question, he again got a "Fine, sir" answer, but he decided to try the follow-up, and he asked, "And what is it that you like best about being on the ship?"

The ensign, a tall man with dark brown hair and pleasant green eyes, surprised Spock completely by answering impulsively but in utter seriousness, "The fact that you just asked me that question, sir." At Spock's raised eyebrow, he flushed slightly and said shyly, but with his usual direct but gentle honesty—this was one of the qualities that drew people to him—"Commander Spock, you and Captain Kirk saved every last one of us, and now I'm lucky enough to be serving on this ship under your command, and, well…" he fumbled for words, "The captain is one of the most approachable people I've ever met , and now here you are, the Vulcan first officer, treating me like I'm an actual _person_, not just some tiny cog in the wheels of a vast military machine." He paused for a moment before stumbling to a finish, "And umm, I just feel, uh, well…_honored_."

Spock blinked at that and marveled again at the human capacity to continually astonish him. He thought that even if he lived among humans for the rest of his long life, they would still be surprising him at the very end. But he quickly shifted his focus back to the man next to him and replied, "Thank you, Ensign," as he really couldn't think of anything else to say. They stood in silence for a moment, and then Spock took the plunge and said, "I recall from your file that you had an interest in building chemical rockets while you were growing up."

The ensign stared at him, puzzled in his turn; not knowing where the commander was going with this, he managed to nod and say, "Uh, that's right, sir."

Then Spock surprised him further by coming out with, "It is an interest that we shared." At the man's look of delighted astonishment—almost _no one_ did this kind of thing anymore, humans and Vulcans, too, having moved on to other means of propelling space ships (and weapons)—he added, "I would be very interested in hearing about your experiences to see how they compare with my own."

Westerby's smile widened as he took in the gleam in the commander's eye, and he somehow knew that Spock was actually asking him not so much about his successes as about his more spectacular failures. "Well," he said, "let me tell you about the time I almost blew up my own house…" When he finished his narrative, Spock shared a story about one of the rockets that he built chasing him as he ran in desperate zig-zags before finally being able to escape by jumping off a small cliff. Fortunately, the rocket had not followed him down but rather had continued at its current altitude, so he had not been hurt. The ensign laughed appreciatively while Spock's eyes gleamed with amusement—yes, it was amusing after this length of time—and then they were absorbed in the joys and pitfalls of playing with this particular kind of fire.

Jim had had a celebratory round with Chekov, and now, wanting to make sure his first officer was doing alright, looked around and spotted him engaged in conversation with Ensign Westerby. He noted their animated expressions—well, Spock's face was animated for a Vulcan—and he decided to go over and join them. It looked like things were going well, but he should really go check. But, no, he was most definitely _not_ hovering like some watchful older brother, nervous for the younger's success. Or, well, maybe he was, just a little. But then he had to laugh at himself for thinking of Spock as a younger brother, since the half-Vulcan was the elder of them by three years.

Westerby had just finished a story when the captain walked up to them. Spock greeted him, and then surprised him by asking, like a diligent party host, "Captain, you remember Ensign Westerby, do you not?"

Jim held out his hand to the young ensign and said, "Of course, I do. How are you Mr. Westerby?"

The captain and the ensign shook hands (why Spock's gaze fastened on their briefly joined hands as a very slight flush rose in his face, Jim couldn't say) and Westerby replied, "I'm very well, Captain. I trust you are, too?" and Jim nodded and answered that he was. The ensign then said, "Captain, I was just telling Mr. Spock about a near-disaster involving my neighbor's garden and a rocket I had built," and then he looked at the half-Vulcan with as plain a "Your turn again" expression on his face as he could manage.

Spock obliged him by saying, "That incident is similar to one that I experienced. I took one of the rockets I had built to the very edge of our property, 2.36 kilometers from the house, an unnecessary precaution, perhaps, as no one else was home at the time. But as you no doubt are aware, I do not have an under abundance of caution, hence the hike away from the house. I had prepared the rocket very carefully, or so I thought, but as you know, this can be a somewhat imprecise science, given the nature of the materials that make up the propellant."

He paused, seeing it again in his mind's eye, before going on, "The rocket rose perfectly straight to a height of perhaps 10 meters, but then it canted over sideways and began rapidly gaining and losing altitude while gyrating wildly back and forth.

"As I said, this incident occurred at the edge of our property. At this particular boundary, our neighbors had erected a fence made up of thin metal slats, why, I do not know, as it always seemed futile to me to fence the desert. Be that as it may, perpendicular to the property line, the fence stretched away for 6.75 kilometers, but parallel, it only extended 51 meters before running into a hillside.

"Now, the rocket continued its erratic course—right up to the property line. As if pulled by an invisible string, it seemingly took aim at the shorter section of fence; its flight leveled out and it flew in an absolutely straight, albeit horizontal, line down the entire 51 meters, exactly shearing off the top 17 centimeters of the fence the whole way, before embedding itself in the hillside."

His audience of two was staring at him wide-eyed, and Westerby asked, "What did you do? Did you try to fix it?"

Spock replied, "Yes, indeed, I had to. I would have been in…some amount of trouble (_Yes, a very large amount_) had the neighbors or my parents discovered the damage, which would have almost inevitably led to what had caused it, which would lead to my not only having built the agent of destruction but also having set it on its path. But here I was fortunate. The fence slats had been buried quite deeply in the ground, and I thought it would be possible to detach the short section of fence from the long side, simply raise the slats up 17 centimeters from their buried depth, and then reattach the short section to the long side.

"I ran back to our house and took a pair of gloves, a shovel, and a pair of pliers from a garden shed and ran back to the mangled fence. I had to work until nightfall—my parents had come home by this time and I was almost in trouble for returning to the house later than I was supposed to—but I managed to finish the 'repair' and sneak the tools back to the shed. I believe the only reason I was able to complete my final run over those 2.36 kilometers was the certain knowledge that this was the last time that night I would have to do so."

Jim asked, "Was the 'repair' good enough? Did anyone suspect?"

Spock replied, "Had the fence been inspected in close proximity to the day of this incident, I think the damage and the attempted repair would have been obvious. But as it happened, I do not think anyone looked at it during the subsequent three years, or if they did, nothing was said to me about it."

He paused in thought for a moment and then continued, "Naturally, the resultant barrier was not as sturdy as the original one had been, and the short section toppled over in a strong storm three years later. I noticed it the day after the storm, and of course, I felt it was my obligation to inform our neighbors about the downed fence, as it no longer presented a secure barrier of any kind. However, I did not feel it necessary to inform them of my role in its fall.

"I do not know if they ever inspected it, or if they did, if they wondered about the shorter length of the slats for that section. But by then, the wind and dust of Vulcan had taken their toll on the entire fence, and there was no other evidence of my crime, as I had covered up the hole the rocket made in the hillside, and erosion had smoothed over the other last remaining traces. So in the end, I escaped any blame for what I had begun to think of as the 'The Infamous Fence Incident'."

Jim and Westerby both laughed at the conclusion of his story, and one corner of Spock's mouth tipped up slightly. In the back of all their minds, of course, was the fact that neither the fence nor the planet it had been on even existed now, but none of them ventured into this territory out loud. This was a happy occasion, and by tacit agreement, the story teller and his listeners simply enjoyed the story for the story's sake.

Spock was quiet for a moment and then said almost shyly, "I have never before related this event from my childhood to anyone." He had shared many occurrences from his youth with Nyota, but this had not been among them.

All Jim could do was to stare at his first officer in amazement, not only because he had done something like this in the first place but also because the half-Vulcan had kept quiet about it until now. If he, Jim, had built a rocket that had mown down over 50 meters of fencing, _and _ he hadn't gotten caught doing it, he would have told _everybody_ about it as soon as time and distance made it safe. Then his breath seized up and he got a very warm feeling in his chest as he realized the true import of what had just happened. For the first time, he had heard a story from Spock's childhood. And not only that, Spock had just related something he had never told anyone else, and he, Jim, had been there to hear it.

Jim was still tongue-tied, but Westerby looked delighted and spoke for both of them as he said, "Well then, Commander, I feel especially honored. And may I just say, you tell a damn fine story, sir."

Jim then managed to nod enthusiastically and say, "Yeah, I had no idea you were holding out on us like that! But watch out, now that I know, I'll start pestering you for stories in your off hours, and you won't get a moment's peace."

In response, Spock blurted out, "Do you promise?" A flush had already crept into his cheeks at the praise, and now it deepened considerably. He was grateful then for the lowered lights in the rec room, which the planners had thought necessary for the proper "party" atmosphere. A tiny expression of chagrin briefly crossed his face—he had not really meant to say that out loud—but this cleared when he saw Westerby and the captain laughing at his "joke," although he thought Jim was giving him a somewhat odd look. His flush faded as he relaxed again, and he let the corners of his mouth tip up ever so slightly again.

The three of them then talked a little longer before Jim said, "Spock, I was thinking we should take off about now and leave these folks to enjoy the party."

The first officer nodded and said, "Agreed." He turned to Westerby. "It was nice speaking with you, Ensign. Thank you for the fascinating conversation."

The man smiled broadly again while saying, "Likewise, Commander; enjoy the rest of your evening." They all said their farewells and Westerby nodded to them before moving off to join a laughing group nearby.

Jim looked at his friend, taking in his relatively relaxed posture and the lack of tension in his expression, and he clapped him on the back and said, "Good job, Spock; you seemed to be getting on quite well there with Ensign Westerby."

Spock looked back at him and remarked, "Yes, my second attempt at talking with one of the crew was quite a bit more successful than was the first." He paused a moment and then said, "Thanks to you, and Doctor McCoy, this event had been easier for me than I had anticipated." The captain smiled again, getting another warm feeling in his chest that the half-Vulcan was able to relax enough in this new situation to actively participate.

Before they took off, Jim decided he should confirm that Chekov was still on his feet (even with Alco-Blok, it was possible to consume enough to become really drunk, but one had to work at it), and he looked around, soon spotting him in a small group that included Yeoman Rand. The young man had his arm around her, and she seemed to be perfectly happy for it to be there. He smiled then and said, "Come on, let's go collect Bones, Scotty, Cupcake, and Ny-chan." Spock's head snapped around at hearing the captain call Uhura by her new nickname, but by now, he had heard two other people refer to her that way, so he didn't comment.

Almost as an afterthought, Jim said, "And let's see if we can find Christine, too. I think Scotty's beginning to like her…" Clueless as he was about himself and his first officer, he had noticed the way Christine and Scotty had begun to look at each other.

Spock did comment on that, asking, "I was unaware there was any animosity between them. And for what reason did he not like her previously? "

The captain answered, "Oh, no, no, no; I didn't mean it in _that_ way. I meant that he now 'like' likes her…" He almost laughed at Spock's continued look of confusion and then took pity on the man and explained, "What I mean is that I think he's beginning to have romantic feelings for her."

Spock said, "Ah," nodded to show he understood, and then quite unaccountably, flushed strongly again. But Jim failed to notice as he smoothly snaffled a small dish of the chocolate to take with them, and then they gathered up the other five people before they all headed for the exit together.

The other senior officers, noting the captain's movement toward the door, largely followed in his wake, with Sulu being the main exception—after all, he was more or less the host of the party and everyone felt it was alright for him to stay despite being a lieutenant—while most others at that rank left soon after the captain. For while Starfleet was much more encouraging of close contact between the officers and the enlisted people than was true of the Navy, there was still an awareness that at this type of event, the lower ranks would only really relax and enjoy themselves if the senior officers weren't present—something about cats being away and mice playing, perhaps? And there was also an awareness that these people worked very hard under dangerous conditions and deserved whatever chance they got to have a good time. Sometimes being a good officer meant _not_ being around.

Once clear of the door, the captain asked the five people with them if they would join the two of them in the officers' lounge. Nyota was exhausted but she was delighted to be asked to come along, and she decided to go for a short time anyway, in part to ensure that Christine would also go (she, too, wanted to encourage what she saw developing between Christine and Scotty). Her friend blushed nicely and agreed to accompany the rest of them. Jim handed the bowl of chocolate to Spock and told them to go on to the officers' lounge, saying he wanted to pick up something from his quarters. As he walked away, he rubbed his hands in anticipation of what he planned to share with his friends. It was a surprise he had been keeping for quite a long time now, since his second year at the Academy, and he had just been waiting for the right time to bring it out, and now, the absolutely perfect occasion was at hand.

* * *

**Author's note:** Okay, a bit of a cliff-hanger, but at least it's a _good_ cliff-hanger.

I made up Alco-Blok so people wouldn't worry about Chekov pickling his younger-than-legal-drinking-age-in-the-US brain.

I don't think the turbolifts in the 2009 movie had voice controls, but I added them in my story because that made the scene in the lift more dramatic. Verbal commands barked out are always going to be more dramatic than just pushing a button (even, I think, if it's _the_ button).

In this story, football = soccer. In the (unlikely) event I ever include what we Americans call football in this story, I'll refer to it as "American football."

And finally, the reason that beryl doesn't appear in limestone is because, for whatever reason, beryllium, which you need to make beryl, is only in earthly limestones in trace amounts, if that. There's no chemical incompatibility like there would be quartz and olivine, for instance, where the two minerals simply can't be formed in the same environment. So it wouldn't be at all impossible for there to be beryl in the limestones of some other planet, but it would be something unusual that the _Enterprise_ would probably want to investigate.


	10. Afterparty

**Disclaimer: I don't own nuttin', not no way, not no how.**

**Authors' Note: ** I'm using the symbol "©" for credits (yes, I know it's the copyright symbol—so sue me (har, har, har) ;-), so when you see F©3000, for instance, that's 3000 Federation credits.

* * *

Chapter 10: Afterparty

Spock, Giotto, Nyota, Scotty, Christine and Bones had settled comfortably in a small circle around a low table, the half-Vulcan mostly listening while the other five bantered , when Jim walked into the officers' lounge holding something behind his back. As the conversation momentarily stilled, he said, "Scotty, go get five of the stemware glasses and hand 'em round. I've got two here that Spock and I will use."

Still keeping his hands behind his back, he waited while the engineer did as he asked. And then…and then he brought out his surprise with a crowing "Ta da!" Scotty gasped out loud when he saw what Jim had in his hands, recognizing the wooden box with the distinctive stag's head and the number 85 burned into the front panel, while Giotto's eyes went wide. The other four looked at each other in slight confusion as Jim worked the box open and removed two stemware glasses with a thistle design cut into them; he gave one to Spock and set the other down on the table for his own use. He then gently extracted a bottle from the box and held it out for their inspection.

It was a 70 cl decanter of The Glenlivet single-malt Scotch whisky, and it was one from a very special limited release for their 400th anniversary in 2224. Still made on Earth in the traditional way at the Glenlivet distillery near Ballindalloch, Scotland, the precious amber liquid had been put into an oak first-fill sherry butt by Gordon & Macphail when it was distilled in 2139.

This family-owned business, now under the guidance of the 12th and 13th generation of Urquhart's, had been bottling the world's finest single-malt and blended Scotch whiskies since 1895, and they understood the importance of proper aging. They had let this whisky mature for 85 years, and then in 2224, they had bottled it up at cask strength (45.9% alcohol) in hand-blown crystal decanters in the traditional tear-drop shape they used for their extra-special releases. Each one had a British Hallmarks silver stopper and came seated in a sterling silver base, all packed up in a hand-crafted wooden box, along with two stemware glasses. Cut into the widest part of the drop, the decanter bore the same thistle design as the glasses, as it was the symbol of the Glenlivet Distillery. This was now the oldest single malt ever bottled, beating their own previous record of 75 years set in 2124, for The Glenlivet's 300th anniversary, and it promised to be absolutely extraordinary.

Scotty looked as if he were preparing to be transported into ecstasy, Giotto whistled, and Bones gaped speechless, while Christine laughed and clapped her hands. Spock and Nyota looked at each other, and then she shrugged as if to say, "Must be pretty special, but I have no idea why."

Bones then managed to say, "Where did you get that?"

Jim said, "Nuh nuh; no questions yet. First, I'm going to explain to Spock how to properly sip this drink while Scotty," he passed the bottle into the chief engineer's reverent hands, "opens this bottle of 85 year old whisky," just in case anyone had missed how truly special this was, "and then we'll have a measure as we toast around the table. Questions can come after that." He then took the empty chair between Bones and Spock.

Scotty said, "Ach, Cap'n, Ah'm honored," as he looked worshipfully at the bottle.

The captain went on, "And Scotty, you just concentrate on opening that bottle and otherwise keep out of this. If you've got different advice, you can tell him later on your own," but Scotty was already in the first stages of transport and barely heard him. The Scotsman answered him with a grunt as he split the seal.

Jim smiled indulgently at his chief engineer and then turned to his first officer and asked, "Now, Spock, am I right that you've never had whisky before?"

The half-Vulcan answered, "That is correct, Jim."

His friend said, "Thought as much. Well, I should warn you this is probably the very best whisky you'll ever have in your entire life, so maybe that's a little unfair, starting you out at the pinnacle, but, there ya go. Sometimes that's just what happens. Anyway, here's what you want to do. First, you hold the glass up to admire that beautiful amber color and then you bring it to your nose and swirl it around so you can inhale the scent; that's called 'the nose'. Some people say you should smell it for 30 minutes, but I think Scotty would go stark raving mad if I made him wait that long, so we'll shorten that step. Just smell it, that'll be enough.

"After that, you take a small sip—and I really do mean small; you don't want to start out with too much, especially since you've never had this before and you don't know what to expect—and you hold it on your tongue for a couple of seconds to taste all the various flavors; that's called 'the palate'. It's going to burn, but that's ok, it's worth a little discomfort. And then you swirl it around your mouth to get the inside coated. Then, and only then, do you swallow and immediately after that, you open your mouth and draw in a breath while all those alcohol vapors are still in there, and that takes 'em straight to your brain."

Spock replied, "Jim, you are aware that I will not become intoxicated from the alcohol, regardless of how quickly the vapors reach my brain?"

"Yeah, I know, Spock, but it's part of the whole experience! And I'd think as a scientist, you'd want to observe the entire thing from start to finish." Spock inclined his head in assent. Jim continued, "Speaking of which, the last step is to focus on the flavors that remain after you've swallowed; that's called, appropriately, 'the finish'. So that's the process, and while it won't be the same for you, it'll get us humans on the way to feeling nice and relaxed. But remember, you'll get your turn at intoxicants with the chocolate."

Scotty had finished opening the bottle and was simply admiring it. But now he and Giotto stared at Jim and asked in unison, "Huh?" while Nyota, Bones, and Christine nodded knowingly.

The captain explained, "Chocolate's an intoxicant for Vulcans. Spock's never had it before, either, but I'm pretty sure he's going to _really_ like it, so after this you'll have to watch out and keep him from finding your Ghirardelli stash." He wondered briefly how it was that Nyota had never gotten Spock to try chocolate before, but considering how repressed the half-Vulcan generally was (at least until recently), maybe he shouldn't be so surprised. Perhaps the man thought having an illicit relationship with her was enough risk to run at one time without adding chocolate to the mix; maybe someday he would ask one of them.

He noticed that Spock was now fixing him with a mock-stern look as he intoned, "Jim, you know I would not do that. No, I would find some new piece of dietary advice on the Web proving that chocolate is harmful to humans serving on space ships—this should not be difficult, for as you well know, one can find every conceivable bit of advice for every possible situation on the Web—and convince you all to turn it over to me. Purely for safe keeping, of course." They all laughed, as he intended, with Jim laughing the loudest.

Giotto had listened appreciatively to Jim's advice and as the latest round of laughter died down, he chimed in, "Now Jim, don't forget to tell him about the whole toasting thing; that's a big part of it," getting them back on track.

Jim shifted his attention to the security chief and said, "Oh yeah! Thanks, Cupcake; you're right, he probably wouldn't know about that either." He turned to Spock again and asked, "Have you ever, err…done something like this before, toasted an occasion?"

While he was growing up, Spock had often been frustrated with the illogical ambiguities of Terranglo, but he had recently begun to appreciate the humorous possibilities such things presented. He now looked back at his captain with a deadpan expression and answered in apparent seriousness, "No, Jim, I do not believe I have ever had that opportunity." A slight pause, then, "What is the appropriate toaster setting for 'occasion'?" smoothly referencing the ancient appliance still in daily use in many households.

The short silence that followed Spock's question was soon shattered by the laughter spilling from his friends. He looked on with one corner of his mouth quirked up ever so slightly.

After he'd regained control of himself, Jim swatted the half-Vulcan on the arm and exclaimed, "Hey, no fair! You haven't even had any of that chocolate yet, and you've _already_ set me up as the straight man?"

Spock did not miss a beat as he replied, "Jim, you have only yourself to blame. I can hardly be held responsible if you hand me the perfect line yourself," while his look said, "Surely you cannot expect me to pass up an opportunity to make you laugh!"

Everyone else laughed again as Jim mock-huffed at him, though he had a very fond expression on his face as he said, "Sheesh, what am I going to do with you?!"

There was yet more laugher at this, and Giotto was tempted to say, "Well, you could kiss him," but he held his peace. As he glanced at Nyota, he saw that she was now smirking a little, and he thought she was likely thinking something along those lines herself (she was).

Perhaps sensing that there was now a slightly charged atmosphere in the room, Jim cleared his throat and said, "Continuing right along…" to get them back on track. He then said, "Anyway, what we do after everyone has a measure, we all hold up our glasses like so," he demonstrated with his empty glass," So one of us will say, 'Here's to something or other,' and everybody says, 'Hear, hear!' in response, and then we touch our glasses together before taking a sip of the whisky. Then a few minutes later, someone else will propose a toast. We could just go around the circle here, and you could be last, if you want to do it, too. By then you'd have some examples to go on."

"Thank you for the explanation of 'toasting', Jim; I will seriously consider it," Spock replied.

Jim nodded and said, "OK, good. Now, think your Vulcan intellect can handle that whole launch sequence I gave you?"

Spock replied, "Jim, I built rockets as a child. And although the sequence of steps involved in properly consuming this beverage in the company of friends is more complex than I had anticipated, I believe those childhood experiences will indeed have adequately prepared me to 'handle it'," somehow managing to put air-quotes around those last two words. He paused slightly and then continued, "Provided I will not be required to mend any fences afterward," fully aware of the double meaning of mending fences.

The captain felt his heart swell as he realized that Spock had just called them all his friends—the half-Vulcan had come so far in such a short time—and he smiled at the in-joke the two of them now shared. He replied, "No, we already took care of anything like that," with a glance that encompassed both his first officer and the communications officer.

Nyota blushed slightly though she still smiled in return, but then she frowned quizzically as her brain processed the words "rockets" and "child" and somehow made the connection between "rockets" and "fences." She spoke for everyone else there when she said, "Wait…what? You never told me anything about _rockets_!" But then before Spock could enlighten her, she amended, "But do I really want to know? It was probably _really_ dangerous…"

The captain laughed and replied, "Well, sure—it's what boys do! But it's a great story, and I think you'd enjoy it if he can be induced to tell it again later," and Spock nodded his assent.

Noticing that Scotty was starting to squirm with anticipation, Jim said, "Alright then, let's get this show on the road!" He took the bottle from the chief engineer and poured them all a measure. He waited a moment to let them admire the sight and experience the smell of the whisky, and then he held his glass aloft while everyone including Spock followed suit, and he said, "To the very best ship and the very best crew that has ever been, to the _Enterprise_ and to all of you, my dear friends, somehow all of us miraculously together…and to friendship!"

They all said "Hear, hear!" at that and carefully touched their glasses together, not wanting to risk spilling any, before everyone tool a sip. The humans' eyes all went wide, and there were reverent murmurs of "oh my gods," and "wow" and similar soft exclamations, while Scotty whispered something incomprehensible in Gaelic.

Spock did as Jim had instructed, pausing to admire the dark amber liquid and then picking up hints of vanilla and toffee along with a slightly spicy smokiness with his nose before taking a small sip. He held the whisky on his tongue before swirling it around his mouth. Jim was right—it did burn a bit, but he pushed that to the background of his awareness while he concentrated on examining the flavors; there was a distinct citrusy flavor, dominated by an orangey taste, and there was an appley sweetness along with the vanilla and smoky-spicy notes. He then swallowed and breathed in through his mouth, the vapors doing interesting things to his sinuses. He almost coughed when the fiery liquid rolled over his tongue and slid down his throat, and he was glad he had only taken a very small sip.

The first officer savored the miniscule amount remaining in his mouth. There was a lingering taste of smoky apples, along with something he suspected was the taste of the oak butt, and a flavor he could not identify. He watched the others enjoying the very special beverage, and while he noted that they all appeared to appreciate it, Scotty had a look of complete ecstasy on his face.

They went around the table, everyone offering a toast in their turn. Bones said, "To hang-over remedies, and to friendship!"

Christine's turn came, and she said, "To good health, and to friendship!"

Next, it was Scotty's turn, and he toasted the beverage itself with "To uisge beatha,"—the Scottish Gaelic for whisky, the "water of life"—followed closely by, "And to friendship!"

Here they paused while Jim filled empty glasses for Bones, Scotty, Giotto, and himself, while the others were still nursing their first measure.

Nyota looked at Jim and blushed a little as she proposed, "To second chances, and to friendship!" He smiled back at her very warmly, and she breathed a silent "Thank you" to whatever force or circumstance had allowed her to share this moment.

Giotto was next, saying, "To birthdays, and to friendship!"

There was another pause while Jim poured another measure for Christine, Nyota and Spock.

Now it was the first officer's turn to propose a toast. He had been wondering what he should say as they worked their way around the table, and then it occurred to him that Giotto had handed him the perfect line. He said, "And to surprises…and to friendship," as his gaze settled on Jim, who looked back at him with a smile like the sun, and he suddenly felt almost elated. There! He had done it. He had participated in a human social occasion that was completely new to him, and he had apparently done alright.

As with all the other times, everyone said, "Hear, hear!" enthusiastically, clinked their glasses together, and took another drink. But in addition to the normal sense of camaraderie, they all seemed to realize that something very special had just taken place. The Vulcan first officer had joined in with them in a way he never had before, and he seemed relaxed and at ease. Previously, if he had even agreed to attend a gathering like this, he would have been sitting stiff and uncomfortable, forcing himself to endure the occasion until he could escape back to the world of duty and work. And though the captain thought all the credit for Spock's new behavior was due to the man himself, everyone else knew it was largely due to Jim, encouraging his friend and coaxed him to come out of his shell to the point where he could sit with them, simply content to enjoy their company.

After the toasting was done, they talked lazily, sipping from their glasses and simply savoring the moment, before Bones said, "OK, Jim; spill it. This is by far the bestest, smoothest whisky I've ever had or am ever likely to have again. How did _you_ manage to get a hold of something this fine?"

Jim shifted in his chair a little uncomfortably and replied, "You remember that time in our second year when I asked to borrow F©3,000 from you?"

Bones said, "Yeah…" He thought back, had Jim ever finished repaying him? Maybe…

Jim went on, "And do you remember that liquor store that was sort of close to the Academy, the one that made a specialty of having stuff no other place had?"

Bones again said, "Yeah…"

His friend took a deep breath and finished, "This is what I bought."

"YOU WHAT?!" the doctor exploded. It hadn't been a good time for Jim to hit him up for a loan, that time his friend had gotten on his knees and literally _begged_ Bones to let him have the credits, no questions asked. So of course he had. What else could he do? And _this_ was what he'd used if for?! Hmm, if the sneaky bastard hadn't actually paid all of it back, there would be hell to pay…with interest! Oh, well, at least he got to drink some of the whisky.

Nyota asked, "F©3,000 seems like a lot for a bottle of whisky, I don't care how rare or good it is."

Christine said, "It is good, by far the best I've ever had, too, but still…"

Spock looked dubious but said nothing. He had nothing to compare this whisky to and did not feel qualified to give an opinion. True, the price did seem excessive, but if one perhaps took into account the special qualities gained through the prolonged aging…well, perhaps.

Giotto almost sputtered, "No, no, you guys have got it all wrong! That's an incredibly _cheap_ price for that bottle! How did you manage it, Jim? Did you turn on the patented Kirk Charm?"

Scotty was working his jaw in shocked silence, unable to say a word or utter a sound, but he looked at Giotto and nodded his agreement—_finally_ someone was asking the right question!

The captain replied, "I didn't, uh…I mean I didn't get it for F©3,000; it was more than that; err…actually, a _lot_ more."

Bones narrowed his eyes. "How much more?"

Jim looked somewhere between awed and embarrassed—had he really done this? Yes, yes he had—and he answered, "Umm, F©15,000."

A stunned silence followed Jim's admission.

The doctor found his voice first. "I'm really glad I didn't know that before! Hell, I'd of been scared to drink it!" He paused just a moment and then said, "But how the hell did you get so many credits? What did you do, rob a bank or something?" he asked indignantly.

The captain pretended to be indignant in return. He drew himself up to his full height, frowned and said in a commanding tone, "Now see here, sirruh! If you want any more of this whisky, you will cease casting aspersions upon my character immediately and forthwith, sirruh!" But he couldn't sustain it, and the frown quickly turned into a grin and he amended, "Yeah, actually, it's a fair question. The fact is, I'd gotten an inheritance from a distant cousin. Roselyn—you remember Roselyn, don't you Bones?"

Bones shuddered and said, "How could I forget? She was beautiful…" Jim interrupted with, "And great in the sack," which caused Bones to punch him on the shoulder and glare at him before continuing, "But my gods!" He glanced around the circle and explained for the benefit of the others, "I called her 'The Lamprey' because she was a parasite who would suck the life out of any man—or woman, for that matter." The doctor looked back at Jim and said, "Say, I just put something together—you guys broke up about the same time you borrowed those credits from me, didn't you?"

Jim answered, "Yeah, and if you're wondering if the two incidents were related, well, they were…"

Bones muttered, "I should have known."

"But probably not in the way you think," the captain continued. He paused for a moment and then went on, "I found out about this inheritance when you were gone from campus for a while, something to do with school for you, some week-long class or other someplace—anyway, I let it slip to Roselyn in a moment of weakness, probably because I just _had_ to tell somebody, and she was there. And of course she thought I should spend it on her. She warted me about it for days, trying to get me to buy her this really extravagant necklace, or some such thing, but I didn't want to.

"The day the credits were deposited in my account, I'd taken her out to lunch, and she started up again about the necklace, or whatever. So then we had this really huge fight right there in the restaurant. She shouted something like, 'Well fine! See if I care! Just blow the credits on something totally _stupid_, why don't you!' So I said, 'Fine! I will!" and we then stormed off in opposite directions.

"Now, this restaurant happened to be really close to that liquor store I mentioned earlier, so on impulse, I went in, thinking it would serve her right if I just blew the whole thing on a bunch of really expensive alcohol. The store manager had just put out this bottle; it had just been released for sale that morning. See, the store also had a pawn-broker's license so they could buy stuff like this—pre-owned so to speak—rather than just get stuff from regular distributors. Anyway, this bottle of The Glenlivet had been unearthed from somebody's attic where it had been languishing since 2224, no doubt put by for safe keeping. The manager had bought it on the spot and sent in the purchase report to the San Francisco PD, and then had waited the required 30 days to make sure it didn't turn up in a police report as being stolen.

"It was ready to go out that morning. As you can imagine, I felt incredibly lucky to be the first customer to see that bottle. And I'll never forget it: the store manager had made this little hand-written sign in calligraphy on parchment, the whole bit, telling all about it, and the ink was still wet." He chuckled, "I still have that sign, too, believe it or not. Anyway, the price he put on it was F©21,000, but I managed to talk him down to F©18,000.

"Course, that still left me F©3000 short, and I was not about to give up on buying that bottle—I mean, what better way to totally piss Roselyn off, _and_ get some _killer_ whisky,right? So I put down a non-refundable deposit of F©5000 to show I was serious and headed back to campus to beg, borrow or steal the last F©3000. I had this mad plan to try to borrow F©100 from 30 people or F©300 from 10 people, or something like that, but I decided to stop by our room first. And you were back by then, and well…you know the rest." He stopped, really hoping that Bones wouldn't go on to tell them about the begging-on-his-knees bit.

The doctor snorted, "OK, so that explains how you were able to afford it, but where'd you keep it? I'm sure I knew all of your hiding places in our room…"

Jim laughed, "Yeah, I'm sure you did, too, and that's a big part of why I rented a safety deposit box at a bank to keep it in! That, plus, I had to keep it safe from Roselyn. See, when I got back from buying that bottle, she was waiting to ambush me in the lobby of our dorm, I suppose to have another go at getting me to buy her that necklace, or whatever. So I flaunted the bottle in her face, and when she screamed at me for buying it, I said something along the lines of, 'Well, you _told_ me to!'

"That did it. It did the trick and got her to break up with me—she was one of those people who, if you tried to leave them, would never let you go, but if _they_ decided to leave, nothing on earth would keep them—but I could tell by the way she was looking at me holding that bottle that she would break into our room and smash it if she could find it, so I decided to remove it from danger.

"And it turns out I'd done the right thing because when I got back from classes three days later, the room was a total disaster. Even though I knew who did it, or thought I did, I didn't report it to campus security because there was no proof. Plus I didn't want to take the time to do that; it was a long hike over to the security office, and I'd have had to spend a bunch of time filling out a report, and have Security come to our room, and shit like that. You'd been gone again for a couple of days, some follow-up to the thing you'd gone away for earlier, but you were due back any moment, and I had to get everything cleaned up and more-or-less put away before you got back."

Bones interjected, "So _that's_ why a bunch of my stuff was all out of place! You said you'd done it as a prank, you scoundrel!"

Jim looked slightly chagrinned at that and said, "Yeah, I pretty much had to say that, otherwise, I'd have had to tell you about the bottle, cuz I knew you would want to help me drink it immediately. And…well, I don't know…somehow I didn't want to, I wanted to save it for some really special occasion. And drinking it up out of spite over an ex-girlfriend didn't seem like the way to appreciate 85 year old whisky, so I stashed it away and just left it in that bank box til I was getting stuff together for this voyage. And now, I'm glad I didn't drink it right then, and I'm glad the whole thing worked out the way it did because not only do I _not_ have Roselyn in my life, but I _do_ have this fabulous bottle of whisky to share with my friends on this very special occasion. And you know what? That bottle was worth every single credit."

The captain was quiet then, still astounded at himself for being able to actually _save_ something like this for a truly special occasion.

Spock was looking at him speculatively, reevaluating what he thought he knew about his friend. Spending F©18,000 on a bottle of something that would be gone in one evening when shared among this many people…well, that was something he _would_ expect of Jim Kirk. But then instead of drinking it immediately, the man had kept the bottle for _years_, and that was definitely something he would _not_ expect of Jim Kirk. Apparently, in with the impulsiveness was also a large amount of impulse control.

The half-Vulcan wondered how many more layers there were to his friend, how many other hidden depths. He suddenly felt that even a lifetime would not be long enough to find out everything there was to know about Jim, and he felt very fortunate to have the opportunity to be with him now, serving by his side. He was completely aware that this happy situation could change at any moment, for all of life was uncertain—no one knew that better than he—but he would take it gratefully, for as long as it lasted.

His reverie was interrupted by Bones snorting again and saying, "Chekov's 18th counts as a very special occasion? Especially when he's not even here?"

Jim laughed and answered, "Well, he's got his own special alcohol, his 'wodka', and he's probably having more fun right where he is than he would be having with us, and that goes for Sulu, too." He paused, his heart momentarily too full for words, and then he said, "No, what I mean is that I'm here with you, my friends, all here together…"

He paused and looked at each of them in turn, his gaze lingering on Nyota and then he let his eyes rest on the half-Vulcan as he finished, "And it's Spock's first surprise party _ever,_ to say nothing of being the person who actually brought the lamb to the slaughter, so to speak, and he did a great job. And he's going to try chocolate for the first time. So all that feels pretty special to me…" he trailed off. He realized that most of his reasons for pulling this bottle out now had to do with his first officer, but well, there it was; this was probably the most special occasion he was likely to run into in the near future.

Jim was busy gazing at Spock, who had flushed slightly from the attention, and he didn't see the glance that passed between Nyota and Giotto, nor notice Bones giving him an odd look through narrowed eyes. Only Scotty and Christine seemed oblivious, smiling shyly at each other as they were.

Before the sudden quiet became uncomfortable, Nyota said, "Jim, it's incredibly sweet of you to want to share this with us, but I have to ask, why was it so very expensive? You could have bought dozens of bottles of very good whisky for what you paid for that one!"

Jim spread out his hands and said, "Well, Ny-chan, they didn't make very many bottles—just 400, I think?" He looked at Giotto for confirmation.

The security chief nodded and said, "Yeah, it was 400 total; 150 of the 70 cl size and 250 of the 20 cl."

The captain said, "Thanks, Cupcake; that makes sense, what with its being the 400th anniversary of the distillery and all." He continued, "And it's stuff that was in their inventory for 85 _years_. Now, everyone knows that making whisky isn't like making widgets of some type, cuz all of it has to age for some period of time before it's even drinkable, but to let it sit for this length of time…well, that's what makes it so completely extraordinary. And the amazing flavor and smoothness and the price all reflect that. Plus, all that time, the original volume was shrinking due to some evaporation—this is called 'the angels' share'—so they ended up with less than they started with. But just think of it: here's this distillery and this bottler, they've got the confidence that they'll still be around to sell stuff that was first put into casks all those years ago…" he trailed off and was quiet for a moment. He continued sounding slightly awed, "Now that's ballsy, that kind of thinking. That's real confidence!"

Giotto and Scotty nodded agreement while the others looked duly impressed. Nyota laughed and said, "Well, I 'get it' now as much as I'm ever going to, I guess. And even though I don't think I can relate to this the way you guys do, I can still thank you for sharing it. It was amazing, and I'm feeling really lucky right now…"

Jim gave her a fond smile and said, "Me, too."

Bones grinned at them all—for once not complaining about anything—and he said, "Chekov should have an 18th birthday more often!" to general laughter. Giotto then got Spock to retell the rocket-and-the-fence story, which left Nyota and Christine shaking their heads at each other while the men all nodded in appreciation and understanding, and Scotty regaled the company with a dangerous stunt from his youth involving motorcycle ice racing.

After that, general conversation started up among the humans—their current mission, the birthday party they had come from, the latest technology gee-whizzes—and Spock finally decided to try some of the chocolate. He reached for the bowl that Jim had set on a small table in their midst and examined a piece. It was quite unremarkable-looking, very dark, as Jim had promised, with a small amount of the lighter brown dusting that often appears on the surface of dark chocolate. The piece was a small round disk of about 2 cm in diameter, with one flat side and one somewhat domed side. After briefly holding it to his nose, he put it in his mouth, and suddenly his eyes flew wide (at least, for a Vulcan) as it began to melt on his tongue, and he almost started as he now realized what that unidentifiable flavor had been in the whisky: it was notes of chocolate.

Unbeknownst to Spock, Jim had been watching for this moment, and the captain let the conversation just go on around him as he focused his attention on the half-Vulcan, wanting to share in this next new experience for his friend. He felt almost impossibly gratified to see Spock's eyes go considerably wider than ever before. Sensing Jim's gaze on him, the first officer looked over at the captain and nodded appreciatively. He took another piece of chocolate and then leaned back in the chair with his eyes closed to concentrate fully on experiencing this amazing new flavor—bitter and sweet and smoky all at the same time—and the rather delightfully creamy texture of the chocolate on his tongue.

When Spock opened his eyes, Jim was still looking at him with an insanely huge grin on his face, and then the captain had a sudden inspiration. Spock's glass was on the table in front of him, still holding a small amount of the whisky. Jim pointed at it and said, "You should try them together." Spock's eyes widened again at the idea, and he decided he would. He popped another piece of the chocolate into his mouth and let it melt part-way before tipping the rest of the whisky onto his tongue. As the flavors blended together, his eyes widened further in complete amazement, and he felt a slight rush as the alcohol carried the intoxicating elements of the chocolate straight to his brain.

He then looked over at his captain and said, "Jim, words fail me in attempting to describe this experience." His friend started grinning at him again, and he paused a moment before saying, "However, if I were you, I believe I would say that perhaps the phrase, 'Oh, my gods!' would express it best," and Jim's face just about split in half.

Bones, who had turned to listen to them, guffawed and said, "No, if you were _Jim_, you would have said, 'Oh, my _fucking_ gods!', and you would have then stuffed half of that chocolate in your mouth and followed it with everything that's left in that bottle."

"Hey!" Jim protested, "I wouldn't do that! That thar is _sippin'_ whisky!" He considered though and amended, "Well, maybe a quarter of the chocolate and a healthy swig…"

There was general laughter from the humans, while Spock just took it all in. Feeling about as pleased as he ever had in his entire life, Jim focused again on the resumed conversation, which had moved on to an experimental software program called HoloReal (a play on both "wholly real" and "hollow real(ity)") that was supposed to provide the best ever virtual reality experience, purportedly almost indistinguishable from _real_ reality. The time passed pleasantly as the conversation flowed on to yet other topics, and Jim shared out the rest of the bottle.

They were all nicely relaxed when Jim looked at Giotto and Nyota and said, "Pretty different from the last time the three of us were all in the same bar, huh?"

Thinking back to the Shipyard Bar in Iowa, Giotto grinned—all had been forgiven long ago—and answered, "Yeah, as fun as it was smashing you in the face, I really prefer this. _Much_ better ambience, to say nothing of the alcohol. Easier on the hands, too."

Nyota looked like she was considering his statement as she said, "I can't speak to the hands or the face-smashing bit, but otherwise, yeah, I prefer this, too," before falling silent for just a moment. She had consumed more alcohol than was normal for her—one glass of wine was usually her limit, but tonight she had had two shots of vodka and close to two measures of the whisky—and her inhibitions had been lowered considerably. When she spoke again, it was to come out with, "Ya know Jim, when I accused you of having sex with farm animals, well…I didn't _really_ think you had a stump-broke cow."

The assembled company, Spock included, simply stared at her in collective open-mouthed shock before everyone but the half-Vulcan erupted into helpless laughter, and even he was fighting to keep his expression under control. Jim was finally able to sputter, "Well, thanks! You're right, I didn't! But how the _hell_ do you even _know_ something like that?!"

She smiled serenely, openly pleased at the ruckus she had caused—after all, one couldn't be lady-like one's whole life—and said sweetly, "Well what do you expect? I _am_ a communications officer, after all! I have to know these things."

Jim laughed and said, "So that's the kind of stuff they were teaching you guys?! If only I had known, maybe I would have gone into communications instead of taking the command track."

Nyota answered, "It's just as well you didn't. I'm not sure the program could have survived you."

Jim's response was to stick his tongue out at her.

She relented then and said, "No actually, I learned it from this guy who worked at the same place that I did the summer before I went to the Academy. He was from the country and had all kinds of interesting stories."

Christine was finally not able to contain her curiosity any longer and blurted out, "But what is that anyway?" Giotto and Bones had been able to guess, and Scotty was snickering behind his hand. Comprehension was dawning on Spock, too, and there was the oddest expression Jim had ever seen on his face, lurking around his eyes.

The captain said, "Ny-chan, I'm going to let you field that one."

"Well, OK. I never thought you'd be shy about something like this, but I guess appearances can be deceiving." She gave him a wicked grin and went on, "Yes, lady and gentlemen, under that cocky exterior beats a heart as pure as the driven slush…" After the laughter from that died down, she explained, "Well, you know that sometimes those farm boys can get pretty, umm…lonely. And cows are, well, umm…shall we say, _taller_ in certain areas of their anatomy than are people. And they can be trained to back up to a stump, and if the farm boy stands on it…well, I think you can guess the rest on your own."

As Christine finally understood, she said, "Oh…_Oh…**Oh**_**! **OK, that's it! No more alcohol for you tonight, missy!" Nyota grinned back at her and then threw her head back and laughed at their collective shock, not embarrassed in the slightest.

Spock had been staring at Nyota the whole time with his mouth slightly open. He finally shook his head and managed to regain his normal, neutral expression. Once again he reflected that it was possible to know a human person for _years_ and still be absolutely astonished by something that came out of their mouth.

Before things could devolve further into more potentially embarrassing topics, Jim decided to shift the focus of the conversation, and he said, "Not to change the subject or anything…" He then turned to his first officer and asked, "Spock, I was wondering, did everything go OK getting Chekov to the party? He looked kind of flustered there at first." He didn't mention how flustered Spock himself had been.

The half-Vulcan replied, "After our session performing the helm control check, I had made the mistake of saying I wanted to discuss the results with Mr. Sulu in the recreation room. Mr. Chekov then declined to accompany me there." When Jim , Sulu and he were plotting how to delay the ensign, he had initially been reluctant to agree to go with the young man to the recreation room. At the time, he had ascribed his hesitation to the fact that he very rarely went there on his own, but now he had to wonder if that mysterious sense humans called intuition had been at work, trying to warn him that accompanying Chekov would be a mistake. He did not understand such feelings—they were not logical—but he could not deny that they were there. It had been an error to ignore those feelings at the plotting session, and he resolved to pay closer attention when "his gut" was trying to tell him something in the future.

Jim looked chagrinned and said, "Oops! Sorry, Spock, I didn't think of that when I talked you into going with him to make sure he got there. Sounds like it almost backfired."

"If by 'almost backfired' you mean that I was required to over-ride his voice command in the turbolift and then drag him to the door of the recreation room to avoid ruining the surprise, then, yes, it is safe to say that that part of your scheme 'almost backfired'." He then described the ensign's mounting frustration at his incredibly meticulous commander on the bridge, their awkward exchange in the turbolift, and then the young man's spluttering struggle as he was being lugged down the corridor by his stern-faced Vulcan superior officer, all in the name of good fun. The room erupted into more laughter as everyone called up a mental image of the scene the first officer had just described. Giotto made a note to himself to check out the security recordings of the incident, purely for his own edification as security chief, of course.

The half-Vulcan tried to fix his captain with a dark gaze, but the chocolate in his system was making him see the truly humorous aspects of the whole situation, so it was hard for him to maintain any real irritation over the episode. But then it also occurred to him that the affair presented him with a real opportunity. He came very close to actually smiling as he said, "But that is alright, Jim. I will find an appropriate occasion to 'pay you back', as the saying goes, when you least expect it."

Jim managed to look completely pleased to find out that his first officer had a sense of mischief and completely terrified at the same time…because he now knew his first officer had a sense of mischief. He asked, "Is it too late to plead hopeless stupidity, or something?"

Spock quipped back, "To do that, one would be required to be both hopeless and stupid, and as you are neither, I cannot 'let you off the hook' so easily." Jim was about to protest when his friend added, "However, I cannot expect you to be omniscient, no matter what you expect of yourself," which got a "Ha, ha; very funny" from Jim, before the first officer continued, "So perhaps I should 'let this one slide'." (He was getting very good at putting idiomatic phrases in air quotes, if he did say so himself.)

He glanced around the table and said "Forgive me, Doctor, but I need to borrow your voice for a moment." He then drawled in an almost perfect imitation of Bones, "What do y'all think? Forgiveness…or retaliation?" He did this so he could justify his use of what had become his favorite colloquial contraction; it was permissible, as he was merely quoting the doctor.

Even Bones laughed at that, and they all voiced their opinions. As several of them held both views simultaneously, in the end Spock said he would be forced to make up his own mind when each possible circumstance for paying Jim back presented itself.

When Jim objected with, "Hey! How can I ever relax, knowing you might do something to me at any moment?!" Spock replied, his eyes twinkling with open amusement, "As that is an accurate reflection of my own state of being on this ship, we are now even," continuing after a very slight pause, "Though one could argue that we are, instead, odd," once again using the ambiguities of Terranglo to elicit laughter from the assembled company. Jim grinned at him and reached toward him, pausing for a moment as the half-Vulcan offered a tiny nod, and then the captain gave his first officer's shoulder a friendly squeeze before releasing him.

Giotto noticed their exchange and suddenly, something he had seen pass between the two of them at the party made sense. He had been a bit puzzled by the little nod that Spock had directed at the captain before the man laid his hand on the half-Vulcan's back, but now it made perfect sense. He glanced over at Nyota and saw her trying to hide a smirk behind her hand. The security chief caught her eye, and they shared a conspiratorial smile.

Easy conversation then followed and after a very pleasantly relaxed, long slow evening, Nyota stifled her fourth huge yawn and said, "As fun as this is, I think it's time for me to go and get some sleep." She stood up and stretched.

Giotto spotted his opportunity and stood up next to her. He said, "I should go, too. Ny-chan, may I walk you back to your quarters?" as he offered her his arm.

She looked surprised but then smiled at him very sweetly as she took his arm and said, "Thank you, Barry. That's very kind of you." No one was particularly surprised at their easy familiarity, since after all, they had known each other since their Academy days.

Jim thought, _You sly dog! Well, I can't blame you. May you have better luck with her than I did_, as the pair bid everyone good night and strolled out the door.

Soon, Scotty and Christine left together, and then Bones called it a night, and finally it was down to just the captain and the first officer.

Jim smiled at Spock and said simply, "Spock, I'm so proud of you—you did great!" As usual, Spock flushed at the praise but he didn't say anything before Jim continued, "You improvised a solution to counter Chekov's resistance and managed to get him to the party without telling him about the surprise. I'm not sure that _I_ would have been that quick thinking, so good on you for that! And then, even after that near-disaster, you were able to join in and mingle successfully and everything…" He was quiet for a moment and then repeated, "Anyway, I just wanted you to know that I'm really proud of you."

Spock flushed a little more strongly and replied, "Thank you, Jim. Thank you for making it possible."

It was Jim's turn to blush as he said, "Aw, shucks, I didn't do nuttin', that were all you."

His friend replied, "We could debate that point, but I think perhaps we should simply agree to disagree."

Jim rolled his head around on the back of his chair and said with a lazy smile, "OK, that sounds good…wait, did I just agree to something or disagree to something?"

Spock answered, "Does it really matter, Jim?" and his friend had to agree that it did not.

They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes, and then Jim brought up a question he had long wanted to ask and which he was now drunk enough to finally spit out. He turned a speculative gaze on the half-Vulcan and said, "Hey, Spock, I've been wanting to ask you…did Ny-chan just have incredibly good timing, or is that rumor I've heard about Vulcans only having sex once every seven years just a load of bull?"

Spock had apparently had enough chocolate to answer (he was up to five of the small pieces by now, providing about the same level of intoxication as two drinks would give a human) as he looked back at Jim and asked in mild surprise, "How did you divine the precise nature of our relationship? I have not told you, and I have great difficulty believing that she told you, either."

Jim replied, "Remember, when you guys were kissing on the transporter pad?" Spock nodded as they both refused to think about the less pleasant aspects of that day. The captain continued, "Well, it was where you had your hand then, reeaally low down on her hip; that's what told me…"

Spock sat up straight digesting this and after a moment, he nodded and said, "Ah, I believe I understand now. That is a sexually possessive gesture."

Jim answered, "Yep, you got that right. It says, 'This is _mine_!'"

Spock looked at him then with a dark, utterly unreadable expression and said, "I shall remember."

The captain felt another of those odd little twists inside, but rather than think about that, after a moment, he prompted, "So which was it—good timing or bullshit?"

Once again relaxing in his chair, the half-Vulcan colored very slightly but decided to answer. After all, there was really was no reason not to anymore, the once carefully-guarded shroud of secrecy around pon farr now in tatters. Spock explained, "The 'sex-only-once-every-seven-years' rumor is a…misunderstanding…of certain biological aspects of the Vulcan reproductive cycle. Sexual activity between physically mature Vulcans can occur at any time, just as it can between humans," and after a pause, "Or as it can between Vulcans and humans." He had added this information for the sake of accuracy, as it was certainly true, although for some unknown reason, he flushed a bit more as he said it.

Spock lapsed into silence while Jim considered this new information. And really, it was to the captain's credit that he had had to ask, as the information was now widely available in the tabloid press and the gossip blogosphere. True, they were happily somewhat isolated from this type of report, not having the "opportunity" to see the tabloid headlines screaming at them from the magazine racks at the check-out line in the grocery store, but there were also now many reports online from the more questionable "news" outlets.

But apparently, the captain only paid attention to hard news, to real reports from real journalists, and the hard news cycle had not yet picked up this story, although it was probably only a matter of time before that happened, too. Spock himself was only aware of these accounts because he was on an email distribution list that alerted the recipients to stories about Vulcans online and in the popular press, as a way to keep up with what was being said about them.

It was all very unfortunate, but also very understandable, really. With the destruction of Vulcan, inter-species bondings were on the rise, and it happened that in most of them, a human was the inter-species partner. Some of these pairings would have happened in any case, given the quite overt interest in each other that members of both species could exhibit, and these unions were quite likely to endure, and in fact, they had a significantly better success rate than did purely human marriages. But some bondings were driven by emergency situations, where a Vulcan man or woman who was off-planet when Vulcan was consumed by the black hole needed a mate to survive pon farr. Some from this latter category would also go on to become life-long partnerships, while some would be dissolved.

But in any case, the humans had not been willing or perhaps even _able_ to keep the Vulcans' secret. Driven by the apparent human compulsion to share what they knew (and Spock understood that humans shared knowledge regardless of whether there was any personal gain to be got from the sharing, that the sharing of the information itself seemed to be the primary point), there were now articles, blogs, and books devoted to the topic.

There were articles with titles like, "How to Sleep while Snogging," (from a British tabloid). There was a book titled _Pon Farr Survival Guide_ (published by SexPress, a publishing cooperative in California) that offered such advice as, "Lay in a store of food that can be eaten with no preparation what-so-ever," and "If you have children and/or pets, have someone you trust lined up to take care of them on short notice," and "How to convince your boss you really do need time off and really need for someone to take over your very important report so you can go home and have practically non-stop sex with your husband or wife for several days to keep them from dying." And of course, there were plentiful reviews and recommendations for such things as "Vulcan-strength" bed frames and mattresses.

Jim absorbed what Spock had just shared with him, and for some reason, he was quite pleased, really quite pleased indeed, to get _this_ answer to the question instead of the other one. But he naturally wanted to know more about those "biological aspects of the Vulcan reproductive cycle" that his first officer had mentioned.

At his captain's raised eyebrows and questioning glance, Spock said, "Vulcans do not normally speak of such things, and it has been a secret, kept from the rest of galactic society."

Jim nodded and said, "OK, I understand; it's private, and I shouldn't ask," doing his best to hide his disappointment. Dammit, this was something he wanted to know! (For some reason.)

But then Spock surprised him by continuing, "However, the situation has changed, as the secret is a secret no longer. There is now no reason not to tell you," and he went on to explain the seven year cycle of pon farr and the importance of having a mate during that time. Without the chocolate, it might have been difficult to talk of such things, despite that they were quickly becoming common knowledge, but as it was, he found himself almost eager to explain this aspect of Vulcan behavior to his friend. And he was able to justify this quite easily, reasoning that it was far better for Jim to hear it from him and get an accurate account than to read one of the tabloid stories with all their typical exaggerations and errors.

To his credit, his human friend took it all in stride and seemed intrigued rather than repulsed. To Vulcans, the loss of control during pon farr (rather than the sex) was the source of the deep shame that surrounded the topic, but humans were not so burdened. There was a side of human nature that positively relished and even encouraged a certain amount of losing control, so this particular loss of control did not seem like such a big deal, and in fact it sounded like it could be rather splendid fun, so… And Spock suddenly understood that in that light, the spike in human-Vulcan pairings was completely understandable.

Jim then asked him, "Spock, have you been through this yourself?"

The half-Vulcan answered, "No Jim, I have not. Many full Vulcans of my age have done so, but then many have not. And given my mixed heritage, it is possible that I will never experience it." As he said this, he noticed an odd look flit across Jim's face before it was gone. Surely he was mistaken, but the closest match in his mental databank of expressions was "disappointment." But then, he was beginning to get rather tired; he must have simply misinterpreted what he thought he saw on his friend's face.

Spock was wrong in thinking he was wrong, of course, and Jim was indeed fiercely suppressing any feelings of disappointment at Spock's latest statement, to the point that he couldn't admit to himself that he felt any such thing. But none-the-less, he decided it was necessary to change the subject and distract himself (and Spock, too, had he known it) by asking his friend if he had really enjoyed the party. The half-Vulcan replied that it had been "quite acceptable" and then the conversation drifted lazily to other matters.

But soon, Jim was trying to stifle increasingly large yawns, and by mutual consent, the two men decided to call it a night. It wasn't really all that late, just coming up on 2200, but it had been an exhausting day for Spock, and Jim was no longer used to this level of alcohol consumption, and it was making him unusually tired. Spock felt a little unsteady on his feet and slightly light-headed when he first stood up, but he soon regained his balance. They left the officers' lounge and strolled back to their respective quarters together, parting amiably at Spock's door. Sleep beckoned, and tomorrow was another day.

* * *

A**uthor's Notes:**

As usual, old business first. I wanted to include Giotto in the after party, and I decided to make it plain that he and Jim were really good friends. So I added a little to the part in the last chapter that discusses Giotto's changed opinion of Jim. I've copied it here, with the addition in bold

Although he had had his own troubles with Jim in the past, his opinion had begun to change while they were fighting the _Narada_. Since then, he had come to love this man as he loved few other people, **and he and the captain were now fast friends.**

The teasers from the last chapter were:

"What 'cha doin?" is what Isabella says in a sing-song voice to Phineas on the show _Phineas and Ferb_ (on the Disney Channel) when she strolls into their backyard to see what they're doing. This is a wonderful, gentle cartoon series, where even the neighborhood bully is kind of a nice guy who speaks fluent French and has unexpected sensitivities. As a bonus, it features a platypus named Perry who is a secret agent.

And from the very silly movie, _Wayne's World_ : "Yeah? And maybe monkeys will fly out of my butt."

Now on to this chapter.

70 cl = 23.67 fl oz and 20 cl = 6.76 fl oz

I made up the 85 year old whisky, but it's not really all that far off the mark. In 2010, Gordon & Macphail released two different 70 year old single malt Scotch whiskies, one from Mortlach Distillery, and one from The Glenlivet, both having been put up in 1940. The nose, palate and finish I described for the imaginary 85 year old stuff in this story is taken from reviews of the real 70 year old Glenlivet, since I could never in a million years afford something like that. (I can, however, recommend 15 year old Glenlivet as vastly superior to the 12 year old variety (as good as _that_ is), and I simply can't imagine how wonderful the 70 year old stuff must be.) As for the price, I found mentions on the Web of £13,000 or $21,000, so F©18,000 would probably be about right for the whisky in this story.

I decided to go with "Terranglo" instead of "Standard" or "Federation Standard" or any of the other names that have been used for the official language of the Federation, simply because I like the way the word "Terranglo" looks and sounds. In my story, it's basically English, with the spelling weirdnesses and the irregular verbs and everything. There will be more about this in an upcoming chapter.

And that's it for this chapter. Thanks for reading, y'all!


	11. AFtermath

**Disclaimer: I don't own nuttin', not no way, not no how.**

* * *

Chapter 11: Aftermath

Giotto and Nyota strolled toward her quarters at a leisurely pace, talking about the party and the gathering they had just left. He could hardly believe his luck. The most beautiful, brave, and bold woman on the entire ship was on his arm, laughing at something he had just said.

When they arrived all too soon at the door to her quarters, she turned to him and said, "Thanks for walking me home, Barry." She paused and lowered her gaze for just a moment, then looked up directly into his eyes, blushing ever so slightly as she said, "You know, it isn't really all that late, and the walk woke me up, so if you'd like to, uh…come in for a little while…"

He appeared to hesitate (in actuality his brain had simply locked up in shock), and before he could stammer his acceptance, she went on, "I have a French press and real coffee beans that I grind myself, so I could offer you honest-to-goodness real, not replicated, coffee…"

His brain had started up again, and he smiled and managed to say, "Thank you, Nyota. Yes, I'd like to come in for coffee; I'd like that very much."

"Good!" she replied as she turned to open the door. Once inside, she continued, "Come on in and have a seat over there," waving toward a small space where there were two easy chairs with a small table between them. The space also housed a desk, with the requisite computer, an office chair, and a small book case.

"I'll get the coffee going," she called over her shoulder as he sat down. After a few steps, she turned back toward him and asked, "Do you want sugar or creamer? Sorry, I don't have any actual cream, although I can replicate some." He answered, "No, just black is fine." She nodded and went on getting the coffee things together. Soon he heard the sound of water running as she filled up the carafe in the small bathroom followed by the sound of the coffee grinder, accompanied by the wonderful aroma of the fresh-ground beans.

While Nyota was busy, Giotto was reevaluating what he thought he knew about her. He had always thought highly of her, but now his admiration for her was more-or-less through the roof. He'd known she was brilliant, conscientious, compassionate, capable, funny, loyal, talented, and a host of other complimentary descriptors. But tonight, he'd seen a totally different side of her personality, one that he hadn't suspected even existed.

He was delighted to find out that she had such a salty sense of humor, and that she really wasn't the delicate little flower one could so easily assume she was. Perhaps he should have suspected as much, from what she'd said to Jim in the Shipyard Bar—he'd heard the whole story of that long ago—but on that occasion, she wasn't trying to be funny, she was trying to put a stop to a man hitting on her.

Tonight was very different from that. He didn't think he was likely to run into _anyone_ else, man or woman, or both, or in between or neither, sober or tipsy, who would make a crack about stump-broke cows (or that planet's equivalent) to their highest-ranking superior officer, in front of the executive officer, who also happened to be her ex-boyfriend. At the very least, it meant that she wasn't prudish, nor one to take offense easily, and there was a good chance a man could be himself around her. And what that meant was that there was also a good chance for a true partnership, where pretense was unnecessary.

He realized then that she was one in a million; no, one in a billion; no, make that one it _ten_ billion, at least! And he resolved to do everything in his power to win her love. Things seemed off to a good start. Now, if he could just avoid blowing it…

Nyota was now back with the coffee, and she handed him one of the cups. As she sat down next to him, Giotto said, "Thanks, Ny-chan; this smells wonderful."

She blushed slightly and smiled as she replied "You're welcome, Barry. It's something I can do to thank you for walking me home from our after-party." She paused just a moment before continuing, "It was fun watching Jim and Spock together tonight."

He recognized this as the invitation to talk that it was so he answered, "You know, I've been wondering what we're going to do about those two. Do we let them bumble around until they figure it out on their own, or do we give them some help?" This was true, he had been wondering exactly that.

She said, laughing, "Oh, I think it will be much more fun to let them bumble." Nyota briefly turned serious as she went on, "But there's another reason to let them realize their feelings for each other on their own. That gives them time to figure out if this is something they both really want." She smiled again and said, "Well, we can try that. And if it looks like they might _not_ figure it out, we can always intervene later."

Giotto became serious in his turn at that, saying, "Ny-chan, are we doing the right thing by wanting to encourage this relationship? Are you at all worried that Jim will break Spock's heart? As much as I like and respect our captain, I have to say he hasn't exactly had a reputation for constancy in romantic relationships."

Nyota had actually spent some time thinking about this very question since breakfast that morning, so she was able to answer, "Well, this surprised me at first, and it might surprise you, but no, I don't think I am worried about that." Giotto looked at her questioningly, and she elaborated, "At one time, I would have dismissed the very notion that Jim could sustain a committed, monogamous relationship, but I've had to reevaluate that opinion."

He smiled broadly and said, "I'm glad to hear you say that, because I think I'm coming to the same conclusion. But, I'd like to hear your reasons, if you don't mind talking about it."

She smile in return and answered, "Barry, do you really think there's _any_ woman who would turn down an invitation like that? Of _course_ I want to talk about it!" (Yes, off to a good start, indeed!) It would be nice to use him as a sounding board, to talk over her still-forming opinions, and to see if her reasoning held up. And it would be nice to hear what he thought, too, where he agreed or disagreed with her. She paused to gather her thoughts and went on, "Well, this doesn't relate directly to Spock—well, maybe it does, but not in a real obvious way—but anyway, I've been really impressed with how Jim has handled being captain of this ship. He's not the cocky, lazy asshole I thought he was at the Academy. He's taking this seriously, working his butt off, always trying to do his best instead of taking the easy way out of things. And I've seen a constancy and dedication in him that really surprised me at first, but it doesn't surprise me anymore. And I know he cares, truly cares, for all of us on the crew."

Giotto nodded and said, "Yep, I've seen all of that myself."

Nyota continued, "For another thing, I'm absolutely certain that he _hasn't_ been trying to get into the pants of anyone on the ship."

He said, "Yeah, if he had, it would have been all over the ship within a day at most! Plus, I've seen him brush off an ensign who was trying to flirt with him. And while you were gone, one of the new yeomen was more-or-less throwing herself at him, and he pretty much just ignored her until she gave up and left him alone."

Nyota's eyes widened, remembering something she'd dismissed at the time. She said, "Oh yeah! I saw Jim turn down a fairly plain, uh…suggestion from one of the lieutenants, just a couple of days before the ship left Star Base 4. I didn't think much about it at the time, just that it seemed a bit out of character, or maybe that he didn't feel right about taking up with a member of the crew. But now it makes more sense, if it's true that the person that Jim is really pursuing is _Spock_."

His look turned very serious and he said, a little hesitantly, "Umm, there's something else that happened while you were gone." She blushed a little, thinking she knew what was coming next. He went on, "I'm a little reluctant to bring it up, but it's one of the reasons I've been coming to the conclusion that I have, so I'll tell you." He paused and took a breath. "You might already know this, but they had some kind of a falling out while you were gone, and they were both walking around looking completely miserable until they managed to fix it. And then it was like the sun came out again. Most people don't think that Spock's face ever changes, but he's actually pretty expressive if you know what to look for, and of course Jim is pretty much an open book in that regard. So it was really obvious to me when there was a problem between them and it was obvious when they'd solved it."

Nyota's face had been getting redder as he spoke, and he now looked at her curiously. She cleared her throat and said, rather sheepishly, "Yeah, I heard about that when I got back. And I, uh…kind of went ballistic over it…" she trailed off. Had that really only been yesterday? Time was relative, indeed.

Giotto's eyebrows shot up and he prompted her, "And?"

She decided she might as well tell him. She replied, "And I came close to decking the captain." He blinked at her, practically in shock, and mentally added "Fiercely protective" to his list of adjectives that described her. She continued, "Fortunately, I didn't, but in the aftermath of that, I found out a bunch of stuff I hadn't known—sorry can't tell you what, it's confidential—and of course, then I had to apologize to Jim. But anyway, it convinced me that he really cares about Spock. Well, he cares for all of us, but it's different with Spock—Jim _really_ cares for him."

Giotto smiled inwardly and mentally added "And able to change her mind and admit she was wrong" to the list of her attributes. He then said, "Well, we all make mistakes." She nodded vigorously to that and he went on, "But now their friendship is on a really solid footing again and from what I can see, the captain is back to spending almost all of his spare time with Spock. And I know I'm not the only one to have noticed that. I heard one of the crewmen asking another if he knew where the captain was, and his friend answered, 'I don't know, but I bet you that wherever he is, Mr. Spock is with him'."

The mood in the room had lighted again, and she laughed a little at that and said, "And did you notice, tonight in the officers' lounge, when Spock tried that chocolate, the captain was completely focused on him and was looking about as pleased as Punch at how much he liked it? That was just almost too sweet! I tried, but I never could get Spock to eat chocolate, but Jim got him to do it. And apparently that's only one of many new things the captain's gotten him to try. Well, like tonight; even just _coming_ to a big party or our little gathering afterward and relaxing and enjoying himself—that's almost unbelievable progress. And I would _never_ in a million _years_ have thought that Spock would be one of the main players in making a surprise party come off, but again, Jim got him to do it."

The security chief commented, "You've got to hand it to the captain; he knows how to draw people out." He was quiet for a moment and when she didn't continue, he said, "And you saw them at the party, right, just after Spock arrived with Chekov?" Nyota nodded, and he went on, "Jim looked so protective there when Spock was so rattled and leaning up against him, just keeping his hand on Spock's back until he calmed down. And Spock had the most open expression I've ever seen on his face; he looked like he was more-or-less blissing out, too." Nyota's look turned slightly odd, and before he could think about it and stop himself, he asked, "Ny-chan, does it bother you that Spock's so willing to be, well… affectionate with Jim in public?" the implication of "…more than he was with you?" hanging in the air unsaid.

Giotto cringed inwardly. He hoped he hadn't just blown his chance with her—this might be a really sensitive topic—but the question was out now. Oh, well, if nothing else, he'd find out what kind of a person she really was.

Nyota was silent for a moment and then answered, "Barry, I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel a pang or two over it, but really, I can't begrudge him that. It's not so surprising, really. Spock needs some physical contact, I'm sure of that now, and this is where and how he can get it at this point. He grew up largely without it, I think. From what he's told me of his childhood, I know he was actively trying to be as Vulcan as possible and so he probably didn't let his mother touch him very much after the age of four or five. But having a relationship with me made him realize that this is something he needs, even if only at a subconscious level, and I don't think it's so easy to put that genie back in the bottle. Not that I think he would be grabbing random crew members for physical contact if Jim hadn't started touching him. He'd just have sucked it up and done without, but it wouldn't have been healthy for him."

She paused again, remembering, and then went on, "And you have to keep in mind that he'd become accustomed to having to conceal our relationship when I was still a student, and that habit of secrecy wasn't an easy thing for him to change. But then there wasn't really any need for him to change it because of how we were in private. This might surprise you, but he was extremely affectionate when we were alone. In fact, it's easily the most affectionate relationship I've ever been in, and I loved that part of it."

Giotto was glad to hear this, as he himself was a very tactile person, and he had had a wonderful example in his parents, still openly kissing and doing things like playing footsy under the kitchen table long after many of his friends' parents had practically stopped speaking to each other, if they weren't actually divorced. This had definite possibilities—yet another reason to try his best with her!

She continued, "But, Spock doesn't have that kind of private relationship with Jim, not yet anyway," sharing a grin with Giotto before continuing, "So the only way he can get the physical contact he needs is in public. And I suspect he's more willing to do that sort of thing with the captain because he's thinking that what he's got going with Jim is a friendship rather than a romance, and that makes it different in his mind, somehow. Course, I think he's wrong about this not being a romance, but well, I guess I can't expect him to be brilliant at _everything!_"

Giotto laughed then and said, "Yeah, _neither_ of them see this as a romance, from what I can tell. I'm certain that Jim is completely clueless, too." Nyota nodded agreement. Giotto's look turned thoughtful and he said, "Ya know, it's a little funny really; the captain's got this reputation as being a touchy-feely kind of guy, but the truth is that he rarely touches anyone else that I've seen, it's pretty much just Spock. Well, except for that manly shoulder-punch thing that he does with his other guy friends, and I don't think that counts."

Nyota looked thoughtful at that and replied, "Huh! I hadn't consciously noticed that, but now that I think about it, I really _haven't_ seen him touch anyone else like he does Spock. And I know for a fact that it was Jim who initiated the physical part of their relationship. Now that I've had a chance to think about it, I just don't believe he would ever have done that if he were only interested in Spock in a platonic way. But at the same time, it's not _just_ physical attraction, since Jim's also really trying to get to know him, to have an actual friendship. And somehow, I don't think this is his normal pattern. From what Gaila told me, Jim had a habit of rushing into bed with his partners and then finding out he didn't really like them or that they didn't really like him, or both. So that's probably why he had 'relationships' with at least a dozen women with we were at the Academy, and _none_ of them worked out."

He said, "Well, ya know, maybe part of the reason was because he was just trying to hook up with the wrong gender and didn't know it. Or maybe he's really bisexual and it just happens that the person he's finally actually fallen for is another guy." He stopped for a moment and just shook his head. "Who would have thought it—the supposed ultimate ladies' man falling for another _man_! But, I suppose weirder things have happened!"

She started then and said, "Barry, I just remembered. I'd totally forgotten about it, but once there was this rumor going around the Academy that Jim was dating a guy. I usually didn't much listen to stuff like that, but I guess this one got my attention because it involved Jim. Even after the way our, uh…encounter at that bar ended, he tried to flirt with me every time he saw me, so I was aware of him, whether I wanted to be or not!" She laughed a bit ruefully at that and then continued, "So anyway, I dismissed the rumor at the time, thinking it was probably a vicious story started by some girl that he'd dumped. But now I have to wonder if it was true."

She was quiet for a moment and then said, "But it doesn't really matter if Jim ever dated a guy before or not. What counts here is what he feels for Spock, and somehow, I think this is the real deal for Jim Kirk, maybe for the first time in his life. Certainly for the first time since I've known him."

Giotto gave her a slow smile then and said, "I don't know about 'for the first time in his life', but I have to say it does look like the real deal to me, too." He paused and then asked, "So, Ny-chan, are we agreed this is a good thing and we should do whatever we can to encourage it?"

She returned his smile and answered, "Yes, I think so. They're both good men, and they deserve whatever happiness they can find. And if we can do something to help, well, I'm happy to do it."

His smile widened as he said, "Good. But for now, we just let them bumble through," she nodded, and the security chief continued, "And if it looks like they aren't going to get it on their own, we can step in and help." She nodded again.

The two were quiet for a moment before Giotto looked at his chronometer and said, "Well, it's getting pretty late and I should probably go and let you get some sleep, Ny-chan." She had started yawning again, as coffee can only combat exhaustion to a certain degree.

She looked a little sheepish, and somehow briefly disappointed, but she nodded and said, "Yeah, that's probably a good idea, Barry. Thanks for coming in and talking this over with me. I feel better about encouraging them now." They stood at the same time and headed toward the door.

Giotto had noted that swiftly hidden look of disappointment and made a quick decision as they stood at the door. Before he could change his mind, he took a deep breath and asked, "Um, Ny-chan, would you, uh, like to have dinner with me tomorrow night? At The Starlight?" This was the one actual restaurant on the ship, and it served real food whenever possible, not replicated. When necessary, the chefs would replicate raw ingredients, but these were then cooked by hand in the old time-honored ways.

Off and on there were, and would be, a surprising number of visiting dignitaries on the _Enterprise_—it was the pride of the fleet, after all—and the primary reason for The Starlight's existence was to provide such people with a more pleasant place to eat than the mess hall, which could be a boisterous place, as the officers and enlisted crew all ate in one mess on Starfleet vessels. But the crew took advantage of the ambience and good food the restaurant provided, and any number of shipboard romances had been, and would be, furthered at its quiet tables.

Nyota looked a bit surprised but she smiled and quickly answered, "Thank you, Barry. I'd love to," blushing just a little.

He couldn't control his broad grin at that and said, "Great! Pick you up here at 1700 hours?"

She replied, "That sounds perfect. Good night, Barry."

Giotto said, "Good night, Ny-chan. Sleep well." With a friendly wave, he walked off down the corridor, barely containing his elation. She gazed after him for a few seconds before closing her door, smiling softly to herself.

* * *

The next morning, Jim awoke later than usual but feeling fine—he'd taken the precaution of downing a hang-over remedy before going to bed—but he had an uneasy feeling he might have said some things it might have been better not to say, or strayed into territory better left alone. He lay thinking over the events of the previous night and suddenly jerked bolt upright as he remembered what he'd asked Spock when they had been left alone in the officers' lounge. Oh my fucking gods, he'd initiated a conversation about _sex_ with his reserved, _Vulcan_ first officer! He'd managed to pry into the man's private relationship with his ex _and_ ask him about Vulcan sexual behavior in general, all at the same time.

He thought, _Way to go, Kirk! Let's just show this new friend what an insensitive, jerk asshole you can be. Yeah, that's the way—be all you can be!_ He realized with a groan that that wasn't actually the worst of it, though. Spock had then gone on to actually _answer_ his questions and had told him things about Vulcan sexuality which until very recently had been closely-held secrets. Not that he was sorry he now knew those things—no, not at all! (for some unknown reason)—but what must his first officer think of him now?

Oooh, this was going to be unbelievably awkward! But he couldn't put it off. Best to find the man as soon as possible and apologize for so thoroughly violating every possible boundary of proper decorum and hope he could somehow repair the damage he was sure he'd done to their friendship. And he now understood that his friendship with Spock was more important to him than anything else except the _Enterprise _herself, and he needed to fix this as soon as possible, or at least try to. He dressed hurriedly and left his quarters to head to the mess hall where the computer told him Spock would be. Apparently, he wasn't the only one who had slept in that morning.

Fortunately, the half-Vulcan was alone at a table, so at least Jim would be able to get this over with immediately and wouldn't have to wait until later to get the man off by himself. Spock saw him as he came in and waved in a friendly manner. Not stopping to get anything other than a cup of coffee, Jim headed over and sat down across from his first officer.

Spock looked askance at the captain's lack of food and was about to say something about his need for nourishment when Jim blurted out, "Say Spock, about last night, I, err…I was _way _out of line asking such, umm, _personal_ questions and all, and I, uh…I know I shouldn't have been asking you all that stuff. See, I was kind of drunk—which I'm not saying is an excuse— but well…otherwise, I think I would have known better than to do that. But anyway, I'm _really_ sorry if I embarrassed you, and so I, uh…just hope you can forgive me somehow—jeez, I have to do this often enough that I should be _really_ good at it by now—and anyway, it won't happen again…" He trailed off when he realized that the half-Vulcan was gazing at him with barely suppressed amusement hovering around his eyes.

Spock then asked mildly, "Jim, are you referring to the conversation we had last night about Vulcan sexual behavior?"

Jim was so stunned by his friend's response that all he could do was nod. The half-Vulcan reached across the table and laid a hand on his captain's forearm; there was a clatter off to the side as someone dropped a plate. Spock then said, "Jim, we are friends, are we not?" At the captain's nod, he continued, "And in human society—in which I can now be said to reside, as the crew is 97% human—sex is something that friends discuss from time to time, is it not?" At yet another nod from Jim, Spock said, "Then I do not see the problem. Please do not concern yourself," as he removed his hand from the captain's arm. He paused then, looked pointedly at his friend's lone cup of coffee, and said, "Captain, I believe you need actual nourishment…"

After another moment of stunned silence Jim managed to regain his voice and he grinned as he said, "Yes, _Bones_," and got up to comply.

Spock raised an eyebrow at him in response, and Jim's grin got a little bigger. For a moment, the first officer watched his friend walk toward the serving area before turning once more to his food. He thought back to their conversation from the previous evening. Did he regret it? Hmm…well, no, he really did not. Somehow, he found that he simply did not mind that Jim now knew these things (for some reason). And really, it was only logical, as the man could have found them out on the Web on his own, and as he had decided the previous night, it was far better for the captain to get the information from a reliable source, such as an actual Vulcan.

Without the chocolate, though, he almost certainly would not have been so forthcoming, and he thought, _Truly, 'In cioccolata veritas_,' playing off of the old aphorism, "In vino veritas" and approximating what chocolate would have been called by the Romans if they had somehow made it all the way to the Americas. But he had said what he had and there was no changing it now. In any case, there was no point in being embarrassed. With a firm resolution to take his own advice and cease to be concerned over it, he went on with his breakfast.

Feeling enormously relieved, Jim marveled at what had just happened as he walked back to get some food. Spock had not been upset in the least, had not been affronted at all. Nor had his first officer exhibited any of the embarrassment that he would have expected in the wake of their unusually frank conversation. It was surprising, but it was good…well, very good, actually. He breathed another sigh of relief that their friendship had apparently survived his insensitive poking about intact.

The captain was in the process of getting all of the stuff he wasn't supposed to eat for breakfast when Uhura came into the mess hall. She had a sudden wild idea when she saw him, and she grinned wickedly. Should she, or shouldn't she? Hmm…yes, she should! Walking up behind him in the serving line, she said, "Moo-oo!" The captain's shoulders drew together briefly in apparent embarrassment, and he spun around expecting to see Bones or Scotty, a sharp retort on his lips. But his voice died and his mouth dropped open when he saw his communications officer behind him instead, looking back at him with a sweetly innocent expression. So he did the only thing he could think of in this situation: he stuck his tongue out at her. At that, she burst out laughing, and well…he then found himself simply unable to be upset over it and he grinned back at her. Once again, he thought how incredibly lucky he was to have these people on his crew. No other captain in all of the fleet could possibly have a better! Yes, this was definitely going to be a good day.

* * *

After second watch was over, Spock decided some quiet contemplation of the passing stars was in order, and he headed for the observation deck. They had left orbit around Mori during his watch and they were now on their way to their next stop at Haight-Ashbury in two days time. They could have been there in mere hours at a higher warp factor, but part of their mission was to survey anything interesting they spotted on the way, so they were taking it relatively easy. This was also an area of the Alpha Quadrant that had several spectacular nebulae, so the view was more interesting than it had been in recent days, and if not exactly crowded, the deck was not as quiet as it often was.

A crewman spotted him as he entered the room, and the man bolted to attention, saluted, and said, "Commander on deck!" Everyone made to scramble out of their chairs or up off the floor, but Spock quickly raised his hand and said, "As you were," and they all settled down. He noted that there were several soft conversations going on in amongst the star gazers and the scattered readers. He smiled inwardly at the number of books he saw in eager hands. He had always had a fondness for printed books, and he was glad that this part of the publishing industry had survived the temporary crisis brought on by the popularity and convenience of ebooks, and that humanity had resumed its love affair with the printed page. Ebooks persisted as well, of course, and the periodical literature of the world was now almost entirely published solely as ejournals and such things as online newspapers, but printed books were experiencing a strong resurgence.

It helped that ecological concerns over disappearing forests were no longer an issue, as forests were no longer being cut down for this purpose. In the last century, some far-sighted bioengineers had managed to create several strains of bacteria that produced different kinds of fiber for everything from toilet paper to high-quality printing paper, all from various kinds of manufacturing waste. The process itself produced very little waste of its own, and this was then further recycled back into soil conditioners. These so-called fiber farms were now a vast industry on Earth, and many people who in former times would have been employed in logging or other aspects of producing paper from trees were now working at such places.

The paper made from the fiber that was produced for books was pH neutral, with superior fold resistance, the perfect porosity for absorbing the proper amount of ink, and the perfect qualities for setting and retaining that ink. It could be made in a wide variety of colors, brightnesses, and thicknesses and was used for everything from trade paperback novels to archival-quality art books, depending on the mineral coating that was applied to the surface. As a result, the print industry was flourishing once again. And there was just something about the immutability of the printed page that still attracted people, as did the simple pleasure of holding a well-thumbed copy of one's favorite novel in one's hands, to relish the smell of the ink and the feel of the paper.

Spock had put his hands behind his back and was walking toward one of the large view ports when his attention was caught by a soft chuckle. He turned in time to see Chekov lay a book on his chest and laugh out loud with his head back. Curious as to what he was reading, the commander went over to him and began, "Good evening, Mr. Chekov…"

Before he could ask his question, the young man quickly straightened up, blushing slightly, and said hurriedly, "Kommander!" and after a short pause stammered, "I, umm…I'm wery sorry about last night…"

Spock interrupted then, unwinding one arm from behind his back and raising his hand with his index finger pointed straight up in a "Stop" gesture, and he made a kind of "Ehh" sound in his throat to highlight his intent. Chekov abruptly stopped talking, and the half-Vulcan fixed him with a somewhat stern look as he said, "Now Ensign, I thought we agreed to put that incident behind us."

The young man's blush deepened and he replied, "Aye sir, thank you sir." Seemingly bent on apologizing for _something_, though, he then said, "I am wery sorry if my laughter disturbed you…"

Spock repeated his gesture and small sound, tilting his head sideways for emphasis, and he answered, "You did not disturb me, Mr. Chekov. I was merely curious as to what you were reading. It appears to be quite humorous."

Pavel stared at him a moment but then replied, "Umm, yes sir, it iz wery humorous; it iz _All Creatures Great and Small_ by James Herriot. It iz a true story about being a weterinarian in Yorkshire, England in zthe 1930s. I hawe read all of his books, and zthis iz one of my faworites. "

Spock nodded once and surprised the ensign by asking, "How far are you in the book?"

Chekov blinked at him, thinking, _Why iz he asking me zthis? He could not _possibly_ have read _zthis_ book!_, but he decided to humor his commander, so he answered, a bit hesitantly, "Well, it iz zthe part where Mr. Herriot has just made a successful prank telephone call to Tristan Farnon, his employer's brother."

Spock could not keep a twinkle from his eye as he said, "Ah, yes, I believe the call involved a certain cow uterus."

Chekov's mouth fell open and he gaped at the commander in clear shock. After a moment, he stammered, "But, but, but…you're _Wulcan_!" as Spock tilted his head and raised one eyebrow at him, while touching the pointed tip of one ear as if to say, "You are only now noticing?"

The young man recovered enough to say, "What I mean iz, I did not zthink zthat you would hawe read zthis book."

Spock put his arm behind his back again as he nodded and replied, "I read his books when I was growing up, as you did. I found them quite fascinating, for they provided a window onto a world that has now utterly vanished, one that was fast disappearing even as Mr. Herriot was starting to practice in Yorkshire and which was almost completely gone by the time the books were first published." He could have elaborated further by telling Chekov that he had read them because they had been among the books his mother had brought with her to Vulcan, and which he had read in secret (being uncertain whether his father would approve), along with all the others she had taken into her new life. But he did not want to bring any sadness over her death into this bright place, and so he let his statement stand as it was.

Chekov stared at him for another moment, and then he asked, "Umm, Kommander? Would you, uh…like to sit down?" as he gestured to the empty chair next to him.

It was Spock's turn to be surprised, but he recovered quickly and replied, "Thank you, Ensign. That would be quite acceptable." He took the offered seat, and soon they were deep in a discussion of Mr. Herriot's books, with their vivid descriptions of the people and the stunning landscape of the Yorkshire Dales; of his obvious affection for these tough and practical men and women, with their sometimes simple ways, and their frequent kindness and their growing hospitality as he had changed from suspiciously-regarded newcomer to trusted vet and friend; of the difficulties and joys of working with the animals; and of Jim Herriot's own initially stumbling but ultimately successful courtship of Helen Alderson.

During a lull in the conversation, a look of sadness filled Chekov's open face, and Spock asked, "What is troubling you, Ensign?"

The young man looked slightly chagrinned that he had been so obvious but then he answered simply, "I miss my cat, Kommander. I do not know if she misses me, but I miss her…"

The half-Vulcan raised an eyebrow in surprise and asked, "Why do you not have her with you? It is permitted by regulations, as long as you file the proper paperwork and agreed to accept responsibility for her upkeep and care."

Chekov sighed and replied, "Zthat last iz zthe problem. I was going to train as a wet if I had not been accepted at Starfleet Academy, and so I have some idea of how much can go wrong. We do not have a weterinarian on zthe ship, and zthere are so many things she could die from, and I cannot expect Dr. Bones, as brilliant as he iz, to be able to treat her. I would never forgive myself if she died, being here with me, from something zthat could easily be treated on Earth."

Spock said, "Ah, I understand." He himself had had a pet sehlat as a child, and he would not have wanted to keep it in a situation where there was no access to professional medical care for the animal. After a brief silence, he asked, "Are there others on the crew who do not have their companion animals with them for that same reason?"

The ensign replied, "Da. Janice, err, that iz, Yeoman Rand…she gave away her cat, and Crewman Voltaire wouldn't bring her dog. And, Ensign Bishara decided to leawe his African grey parrot with his sister, because of that. Some people hawe brought their pets anyway—I know of two people with hamsters and one who has a pet rat—but…" he trailed off and shrugged.

The commander said thoughtfully, "I see," and then their conversation moved on to other things.

Since the moment he had asked Spock to sit down, Chekov had been continuing his ongoing reevaluation of the first officer that had started up in his brain almost as soon as the rec room door had closed behind them the previous night. He didn't think he had ever been more surprised in his entire life than when that same door had opened and his commander's role in delivering him to the surprise party had been revealed. The surprise party had been a surprise alright, but Spock being the person who delayed him? Now that had truly _shocked_ him.

So it seemed the half-Vulcan was not just the rigid martinet he had previously thought the man to be; well, the first officer _could_ be like that, it was true, but there was obviously so much more to him than that. As they continued to talk, Chekov marveled at how different Spock seemed to him now, and he wondered if it was the man himself who had changed or if it was just his own view of the commander, or both. He finally decided it was both.

As they talked, Chekov almost started as he came to another realization. Other than Sulu, and the captain to a small extent, none of the other senior officers had bothered to just sit and talk with him like this, and he felt a sudden unexpected rush of fondness for the man seated beside him. At the umpteenth time of Spock addressing him as Mr. Chekov or as Ensign, he suddenly blurted out, "Umm, Kommander? Y…you can call me Pawel off duty…if you wish zthat iz…"

Spock sat back in surprise and stared at Chekov for just a moment before replying, "That is acceptable. Thank you…Pavel," feeling quite pleased somehow, but still keeping his neutral expression. He then asked, "And what do you wish to call me, when we are off duty?" He knew this was a bit of a risk—one _never_ knew what might come out of a human's mouth—but it seemed the right thing to do in this situation.

Pavel was surprised that Spock had asked him this—he had not expected anything like this response—and he was momentarily taken off guard. But he then had a sudden inspiration and he decided to follow through with it before he could change his mind. He colored again but he plowed ahead and asked, stammering a little shyly, "Well, just 'Spock' doesn't seem quite right, somehow—I don't know why, but it just doesn't—so, w...would it be alright if…if I called you 'Sempai'?"

The half-Vulcan blinked at him, once again completely surprised by a human utterance, despite being mentally prepared for such a thing. He understood that by asking this, by designating him as "senior," the young ensign was more-or-less asking to be his kohai, his "junior," to be someone who would look up to him and to be someone he would look out for. It was somewhat similar to the Western tradition of the mentor, but it was different in that the persons involved were generally fairly close in age and of similar experience and social standing, such as with a first year and a third year student at the same school.

He knew this, being familiar with the Japanese system of honorifics (though unlike Jim and Bones, not from animé but from an interest in the culture), and he also knew their situation was rather out of the norm for this kind of relationship—being the first officer and quite a bit older, he was more like a sensei, a "teacher"—but he somehow knew that Chekov did not mean any disrespect at all by asking what he had. It was, he thought, simply that the sempai/kohai relationship carried an implication of closeness and familiarity, while a sensei was automatically at more of a distance. As he realized this, he suddenly understood that Pavel was basically asking him to be his friend, while still making clear the younger man's great respect for him. No one had _ever_ approached him in quite this manner before—it was very different from the way his other friendships had happened—and he found himself feeling quite touched by the gesture.

Spock regarded the ensign thoughtfully for a few seconds before saying, "You wish to be my kohai, then." Chekov blushed a little again, pleased that the commander understood, and he gave a quick nod and a short, "Da," The half-Vulcan got an odd feeling at that—something in his chest felt very warm indeed—and one side of his mouth tipped up as he inclined his head. He had intended to say, "That would be acceptable," but somehow, what came out of his mouth instead was, "It would be an honor, Pavel. I accept." His eyes widened a little in his surprise at himself, but he quickly forced his expression back to its normal neutral.

Chekov however, was under no such constraints, and he grinned hugely as he stammered, "Z..zthank you, Sempai," before he ducked his head a little in pleased embarrassment.

Spock replied, "You are welcome, Pavel," and after a slight pause, went on, "But I do have a question for you. Please do not misinterpret my query, but why not Mr. Sulu? Why me?"

Chekov looked up then and smiled at the half-Vulcan and answered, "Hikaru iz more of like my aniki, my older brother." He paused for just a moment and then said simply, "And you are Kommander Spock," as if that were the only real explanation needed for his choice. He was glad once again for having had a Japanese best friend while he was growing up, so he knew about these relationships and how they could enrich the lives of both of the people involved. Plus, he suspected this childhood friendship was one reason that he had gravitated towards Sulu, who had turned out to be about the best friend he had ever had.

The half-Vulcan inclined his head in assent and said, "Thank you, Pavel; I believe I understand." Their conversation then turned to how each of them knew these things and spread further to Japanese culture in general, and they were soon engrossed in this new topic. After a time though, Spock's internal clock told him it would soon be time for he to check on the progress of an experiment, and at the next lull in the conversation, he said, "Pavel, I must be going now, but I thank you for the fascinating conversation…and for what you asked me," flushing a little in his own turn at his sudden renewed awareness of this unexpected friendship.

Pavel smiled broadly, feeling quite at ease now with his new friend—he was one of those happy people who make friends quite easily—and said, "You're wery welcome, Sempai…and thank you."

The two men said good evening to each other, and Spock headed for the door. Chekov picked up his book again and was soon transported back to the life of a country vet in Yorkshire, England in the 1930s.

* * *

Spock walked away from the observation desk deep in thought, a radical idea starting to take shape in his brain. He went to tend to his experiment and ate a quick light dinner in the mess hall. He then returned to his quarters to get to work seeing what it would take to make his idea a reality.

After two solid hours spent in researching and compiling the information he would need, he spent another half hour getting the plans in order. He made a quick trip to one of the ship's print stations—there were still things that worked best presented as a hard copy—and then called Jim.

The captain was working in his ready room, as he often was. Grateful for an interruption from his paperwork, he answered his communicator, "Kirk here."

Spock said, "Captain, this Commander Spock. Would it be convenient for me to talk to you now about an idea I have had?"

"Sure, Mr. Spock. What's up?" Jim replied.

The half-Vulcan answered, "I would prefer to speak to you in person, if you do not mind, Captain."

Mind? Would he _mind_?! Hell, no! Any distraction would be good at this point, but for that distraction to be his first officer, and in person? Well, that was about the best distraction he could think of. He managed to contain himself as he replied, though, "That would be fine, Mr. Spock. Come on up whenever you're ready."

"Thank you, Captain; I will be there momentarily. Spock out."

A few minutes later, Spock walked into the ready room through the corridor entry so as not to go through the bridge when he was not on watch. He was carrying a PADD and a large sheet of paper rolled up into a cylinder. After the two men exchanged greetings, Jim joined the commander at the conference table, sitting down across from him.

The captain saw that his first officer was looking at him rather speculatively and he wondered what was up. He was almost certain that Spock wanted to talk to him about something to do with the ship, so when the man spoke, what he said seemed to come out of left field.

"Captain, am I right in thinking that you do not have any allergies to animals?" Spock asked.

Jim blinked at him in surprise but managed to answer, "Uh, no…no allergies to animals, just to vaccines and shit like that."

Spock nodded. This was the answer he expected, but it was good to have his hunch confirmed. Pet allergies were now largely a thing of the past, as allergists and immunologists had finally made the connection between antibiotic use in childhood and the development of allergies when the antibiotics killed off the beneficial intestinal bacteria as well as the bad germs they were intended to treat. This problem was now easily remedied by restoring the body's beneficial bacteria with the appropriate probiotics, and as a consequence, very few people had pet allergies.

The half-Vulcan now felt free to go on with what he really wanted to say. He cleared his throat and began, "Captain, it has come to my attention that a number of the crew have companion animals with them on board the _Enterprise_." His expression was his normal neutral one, and it gave away nothing of his thoughts.

Jim was taken aback, wondering where this had come from and hoping that Spock wasn't going to complain about the practice. He answered, "Yeah, but it's OK according to regulations, you know."

"I am aware of that, Captain. But did you know there are a number of crew members who do not have their animals with them for fear of not being able to treat them appropriately in the event of illness or injury?'

The captain replied, "Well, no, I didn't know that. Actually, I never really thought about it before." He narrowed his eyes at his first officer and asked, "Where are you going with this, Mr. Spock?"

The half-Vulcan colored slightly and answered, "If we had a veterinarian on board, more people would have their companion animals with them."

Jim's mouth fell open and he stared at his commander for a moment (humans weren't the only species that could say utterly surprising things) before asking, "Are you saying that we should have a _vet_ on the ship? So more people can have their animals with them?"

"Yes, sir," was the succinct reply.

The captain shook his head, completely surprised by what Spock was saying. Bu then he grinned at his friend and said, "And I bet you've got all the relevant information here with you, ready to show it to me."

Another "Yes, sir," followed and Jim said, "OK, show me what you've found out, Spock," and the first officer proceeded to go over what he estimated they would need in the way of equipment, supplies, and civilian personnel. Next he unrolled the cylinder of paper he had brought with him—it was actually two sheets rolled up together—to show the captain how the lab facilities could be rearranged to gain the necessary space for a veterinary operation, with no loss of functionality for the labs. The other sheet contained a plan for converting a little-used observation deck next to the C Deck rec room into a sort of day-care facility for animals like dogs that would not do well if left alone in a small room for eight hours at a time.

The last thing that he showed Jim was the cost estimate that he had worked out, which included a very rough estimate of the cost for converting the spaces and a rather more firm one of the salary amounts needed for the personnel. As his lists of equipment and supplies were almost certainly incomplete, he had built in a hedge factor to account for such oversights. He knew it was only an approximation of the actual expenses, but the estimate was as accurate as he could make it.

Jim whistled at the start-up costs. He said, "Spock, this is a really sweet idea, but I'm worried about the cost. Starfleet almost certainly isn't going to want to pay for this, and it seems kind of a lot for the interested crew to cough up."

Spock replied, "I plan on funding this myself. There would be no cost to Starfleet or to the crew."

The captain couldn't stop himself from blurting out, "But can you afford it?" He'd wondered before about Spock's apparent wealth. How did he have _anything_ after the destruction of Vulcan?

The first officer replied, "I can." He then went on to answer Jim's unspoken question, saying, "I was fortunate enough to inherit a substantial number of credits from several relatives when I was growing up. My father initially saw to it that these were invested wisely, but I took over this activity when I was fourteen. When I declined to attend the Vulcan Science Academy, I moved all of my investments and financial accounts off of Vulcan. Most of these are now on Earth."

Jim colored a bit—damn, was he that obvious?—but he just smiled and said, "OK, good." After a short pause, he went on, "We'll have to work out things like restrictions on size and number of pets and stuff like that. Oh, and if they're not small animals confined to cages or if they can't just be left by themselves in someone's quarters, we'll probably want to have rules like they'll have to be sociable and play well with others. And of course you know we'll have to get approval from Starfleet Command. "

Naturally, Spock had that aspect covered, too, and he said, "Of course, Captain. I was thinking we could pitch it as a pilot program…" he stopped abruptly when he noticed that Jim was now gaping at him.

His friend asked incredulously, "Wait…did you just say we could 'pitch it'?!"

The half-Vulcan looked slightly surprised, but he soon regained his neutral expression and said, "I suppose I did say that. It is rather colloquial, but it does accurately reflect the situation." He paused for a moment and then with a small gleam in his eye, he repeated, "Yes, we could pitch it as a pilot program. One aspect of the pilot would be to assess the effect on crew morale if more people had their animals with them as a result of there being a veterinary service on the ship. If the effect is positive, as I expect it will be, then perhaps such things could become standard facilities on ships in the fleet. I could provide seed funding for such an expansion, but full funding would need to come from some other source." Spock's eyes were positively shining now in his enthusiasm.

Jim gazed back at him, still somewhat surprised by what his first officer wanted to do. He then made one of those sudden intuitive leaps, realizing that there must be a very particular motive behind all of this, something other than just crew morale in general. He regarded the half-Vulcan speculatively and said, "OK, Spock. Time to spill it. I know you care about the crew, but why do you really want to do this? What's this really all about? "

Spock almost started—once again he had failed to take Jim's intuitive sense into account—and he actually did sigh a little. Flushing slightly, he replied, "My kohai misses his cat." He was looking down, not quite wanting the meet Jim's eyes, caught out once again with an emotional response.

Jim asked, momentarily astonished, "Your kohai?!" But he recovered quickly and gave his friend a slow, wide smile and when Spock didn't say anything else, he went on, "Let me guess—Chekov?"

Spock looked up into Jim's eyes, flushing a little more, and then replied simply, "Yes."

The captain's smile turned into an enormous grin. Getting Spock to participate in the surprise party had paid off far beyond his wildest expectations. He had been hoping it would bring his first officer closer to the crew, and at least in Chekov's case, this is exactly what had happened. He reached toward his friend then and when Spock nodded, he laid his hand on the man's forearm and said, "Spock, this is about the sweetest thing I've heard in a very long time." He was actually thinking it seemed like an incredibly _human_ thing to do, but he decided not to vocalize that thought. He went on, "I heartily approve, and I'll give you all the support I can in firming this thing up and then taking it to Starfleet Command. As you know, we're headed back to Earth after our stop at Andoria. I think it would be a good idea for us to run this by Admiral Pike first, so I'll see about setting up a meeting with him . If we can get his support, that's half the battle." He gave Spock's arm a friendly squeeze before removing his hand.

The first officer could not quite keep a tiny smile from his face as he replied, "Thank you, Jim. With the two of us pitching it, how can they say 'No'?"

Jim laughed and replied, "Well, they won't...not if they have a lick of sense!" He got up then and walked around to the other side of the table so he could sit next to Spock instead of across from him. He said, "Here, let's take a look at those plans again. I think I saw something else we could rearrange in the labs that would give a vet facility a bit more room…" As they worked, he spared a brief thought to what a terrific team the two of them made, and once again, he marveled at his luck. Yes indeed, the very best crew in the entire fleet, and it was his.

* * *

**Author's note: ** Future business first. I have to let you know that it will probably be three weeks or so before I post the next chapter. I'm going to take a small break from writing this story so that I can get some other things done. And this is a good place to pause because we're heading into something darker again in the next chapter or two (it's just in my head at this point, and I'm not sure if how long it will be). But don't worry, it's not going to involve more conflict between our two favorite boys, rather it will be something that brings them closer together. But more than that, I'm not sayin'.

Now on to this chapter. Probably everyone got this, but just in case, "in vino veritas" is Latin for "in wine [there is] truth."

If I got stuff wrong about the sempai/kohai relationship, I apologize for that. And I'm using the spelling "sempai" instead of the more common "senpai" because I like the way the word sounds when spelled that way. Plus, spelling it with an "m" makes it less similar to "sensei."

The bit about allergies possibly being triggered by antibiotics wiping out the beneficial bacteria in our systems is a relatively new idea, but I think it's gaining some adherents. I think our beneficial intestinal fauna are going to turn out to be much more important for our health than anyone ever thought.

(This next paragraph isn't related to the story in any way—feel free to skip it—and I'm just telling you folks because, well, that's what we humans do: we share information. Anyway, another connection between the lack of good bacteria in our digestive tracks and health is my own experience with craving sugar and sweet things. I have had fairly intense sugar cravings almost my entire life. But when I started taking a particular kind of probiotic called Primadophilus Reuteri Pearls, made by Nature's Way, my sugar cravings disappeared after about six weeks. I can have one brownie now and not want to eat the entire pan. And I'm not resisting an urge to eat sweets; I simply don't even want them most of the time. I didn't change anything else about my diet, nor did I change the amount of exercise I (don't always) get, and from this one single change, I've lost 15 pounds in six months. FYI, I have no financial stake what-so-ever in the company that makes this probiotic nor in any of the outlets that sell it. I'm just sharing the information for the sake of sharing it. Maybe it will help someone else, too.)

Anyway, thanks for reading, and check back in about three weeks.


	12. Diverted

**Disclaimer: I don't own nuttin', not no way, not no how.**

Chapter 12: Diverted

They were now one day out from Haight-Ashbury, and so far second watch had been very quiet. They had just finished a quick scan of an unexplored class-M planet and were getting ready to leave the star system that contained it. Detailed examination of the planet would have to wait until another occasion, as it was now time for them to be on their way.

It was so quiet that Jim was almost falling asleep in the command chair when Lt. Uhura sat up straight and pressed her receiver tighter up against her ear as a look of intense concentration settled onto her face. She then turned toward him and said, "Captain, it's very faint, but I think I'm picking up what sounds like a distress call from Luna HD10180 g." Usually shortened to Luna-gee, this was actually a moon, very similar in size and mass to Earth, orbiting a Neptune-plus-sized planet in the habitable zone of the Sun-like star, HD10180, 127 light years from Earth.

The moon had once been home to a now-vanished civilization that had been dubbed the Tridecagonian Culture, named for the 13-sided buildings that were the one constant in every village, town, and city yet discovered on this particular continent. Luna-gee was currently uninhabited by any humanoid species, but at any given time, there could be one or more archaeological expeditions there trying to solve the riddle of the past civilization and the mystery of its complete disappearance. There was, therefore, enough activity on the planet to make it worthwhile having a subspace transmitter close to the star system to pick up communications signals and send them on along the chain of such transmitters.

The captain sat up and blinked away his drowsiness and said, "Lt. Uhura, can you boost the signal any further?" At her answer of "No, sir; it's a high as it will go," he then said, "Mr. Sulu take us to Luna HD10180 g, maximum warp." That would get them there in a hurry.

Sulu responded, "Aye, aye Captain," and moved to comply.

As they approached, the signal became stronger, and Uhura said, "Captain, the signal is much more audible now. Would you like me to put it on speakers?"

He replied, "Yes, Lieutenant," and a man's panicked voice struggled through the static, saying, "Mayday, mayday, mayday! Can anyone out there hear us?! Mayday, mayday, mayday!"

Eyes widened all around the bridge and Kirk said, "Lieutenant, open a channel."

Uhura did as he asked, and he said, "This is Captain Kirk of the USS _Enterprise_ responding to your call. How may we assist you?"

The voice came back as a near shout, "Oh, thank God!" and then softer, as if the person had turned away slightly, "Gerald, we got through to someone!"

A different voice was heard from a slight distance saying, "Give me that," and then stronger, "This is Dr. Gerald Smythe, Dean of the Cornell University School of Xenoarchaeology. I am director of field work operations here for our excavation of the Tridecagonian culture. To whom am I speaking?" The voice was demanding and haughty, and he pronounced his last name to rhyme with "scythe," despite its being a variation of plain old "Smith."

Jim bristled slightly at the tone of superiority and the rudeness in the man's voice, but he pushed that aside as he repeated, "This is Captain Kirk of the USS _Enterprise_. How may we assist you?"

The voice answered, "Captain, we have…a bit of a situation down here. I would like to discuss it with you." Unlike the other man, he sounded quite calm—rude, but calm.

The captain replied, "Well, you have me on the horn right now. Discuss away."

There was a slight hesitation as a muffled discussion took place in the background, and then the voice was back saying, "No, that is not at all acceptable. This is a very delicate matter and can only be discussed in person. You must join me on the planet's surface at your earliest possible convenience."

Jim was bristling again at the now undisguised demanding rudeness when he happened to glance over at Spock. The half-Vulcan was staring at him with a tight expression; it seemed the man's behavior was bothering his first officer, too. But the captain tamped down his personal feelings and replied, "I can do that, but it will take a little time to get an away team together, Dr. Smythe. We've tracked the origin of your signal and will beam down to your location on the surface. I'll contact you on this frequency when we're ready."

There was an audible sigh of impatience and then, "I suppose that will have to do. We will await your arrival. And the sooner the better."

The captain bristled again and couldn't quite keep a note of irritation from his voice as he said, "I understand that. Kirk out."

Just before the connection was cut, they heard a woman's voice in the background saying urgently, "Gerald, you need to…" Apparently they weren't going to hear what Gerald needed to, and it probably didn't have anything to do with them, anyway. Jim shook his head. Pushy academics, thinking they were better than other people, and here asking for—no, practically demanding—instantaneous help, and not even a thank you! He'd had enough of this type of person at the Academy. The sooner they could get this over with, the sooner they could be back on their way to Haight-Ashbury.

The captain thought for a moment and then settled on the make-up of the away team. Despite the unknown problem the archaeological team was experiencing, he decided to give Sulu a turn on an away mission. The man in charge down there was acting like a first-class asshole, and it had seemed to bother Spock, so he thought it best in this case to leave his first officer on the ship. The half-Vulcan had been though a lot recently, so it was it would be nice to give him a break and not ask him to deal with this man. Sulu and he would be able to handle whatever it was with the security team in any case, he was sure. He said, "Lt. Uhura, contact Mr. Giotto and have him meet me in the transporter room with three of his people in 15 minutes. Mr. Sulu, you're with me. Mr. Spock, you have the conn."

Spock's eyes widened slightly at that. At the first mention of the distress call, he had felt slightly apprehensive, and the feeling had begun building in intensity when he first heard Dr. Smythe's voice. But now that he understood that he would not be part of the away team, the rising tide of apprehension had become a sudden flood of sharp fear and near-panic. He tried to dismiss the feeling, as there was no logical reason for it. With what they knew at this point, simple concern would be more appropriate than the dread that was now inundating his system at a visceral level. But the feeling would not be dismissed, and he had a sudden vivid memory of his pledge to himself to not ignore the intuitive feelings he sometimes got. The near-debacle getting Chekov to the surprise party after he disregarded his sense that he should simply let the man go to the recreation room alone had taught him that, if nothing else.

The half-Vulcan had been sitting at the science station, but after a moment's hesitation, he stood abruptly and said, "Captain, may I speak with you in your ready room?" His slight look of surprise had been replaced by as close to a neutral expression as he could manage under the circumstances, as he was tightly controlling the agitation he actually felt.

Jim was about to tell his first officer that this would need to wait until he returned to the ship, but he noticed the tension around the commander's eyes. He answered, "Alright, Mr. Spock. But you'll have to make it quick."

Spock replied, "I shall be brief, Captain," and Jim lead the way into the ready room, calling back over his shoulder, "Mr. Sulu, you have the conn until we get back."

Once inside, the captain walked over to the large view port and looked out for a brief moment before he turned to face his first officer. Spock came into the room a few feet, put one arm behind his back, and said, "Sir, request permission to accompany the away team," his expression unreadable.

Jim looked back at him, startled. He replied, "Spock, you don't need to do this. I saw how you reacted to that asshole down there and it looked to me like you were at least as bothered by his rudeness as I was, so I'm going to let you stay on the ship this time. Mr. Sulu needs more experience on away missions anyway."

Spock's look became even more tense and he said, "Captain, you misinterpreted my expression. I was not 'bothered' by Dr. Smythe's tone or manner." But then he clammed up and didn't say what _was _bothering him.

That got the captain's attention. He decided to push a little. He said, "OK, if it didn't bother you, what was that look for? And why do you want to come along, anyway? Do you _like_ dealing with pushy, supercilious assholes?"

"That is not the reason, Captain."

"OK, then Mr. Spock. What _is_ the reason?"

Spock almost sighed then. He closed his eyes briefly, fighting for control. He was momentarily unable to keep his panic and deepening distress from washing into his face, but he drew in a deep shuddering breath and somehow managed to regain control of his expression. The half-Vulcan now understood that his terrible fear was for the man standing before him, fear that if his captain went to the surface of the planet without him that he would not return.

The feeling was not logical, not based on anything that he could point to and say, "That thing, that is the reason for it." There was simply no away around it: what he was experiencing could only be called a premonition. And how could he, logical Vulcan that he tried to be, tell his captain that the reason for his request was a _premonition_? He began clenching and unclenching the hand at his side as he settled on what to say. His spoke with a soft intensity, and his voice was tinged with a desperate urgency as he answered, "Because I cannot protect you on the ground, if I am on the ship."

Jim stared at him for a moment, as totally surprised by his first officer's fleeting expression and his manner as by what he'd said, and then asked, "Protect me from what, Mr. Spock? Yeah, OK, we don't know what's going on down there, but it's just a bunch of academics. Some of them might be annoying, but I'm sure they aren't dangerous; I don't think I need you to 'protect' me from them. And anyway, I'm sure that Gerald guy would have told us immediately if they were facing some kind of serious threat down there."

The first officer fixed his captain with a dark gaze and replied, "I have no such confidence in Dr. Smythe." He paused a moment and went on, incorporating metaphors to get his point across, just like a human would, "And forgive me for being blunt, but you have never been on the other side of the lectern, Captain. You do not know the bitter hatreds and deadly rivalries that can be part of that world. The ivory tower is sometimes not so much a tower as a fortress with different camps ready for pitched battle." He had been fortunate, he knew, as his colleagues in the Xenolinguistics Department had actually been, well, collegial. But until the year before he was hired onto the faculty, the department had been home base for half of one of these rivalries, and he had heard many stories about the professor involved and his single-minded obsession with besting his rival at Oxford. Fortunately, however, the man had retired early to have more time to pursue his long-running feud, and the department had once again become a suitably peaceful place to work.

The captain snorted this time and responded, "I'm not actually surprised, but still, you're going to have to give me something more than that, Mr. Spock."

The half-Vulcan brought his other arm out from behind his back, raised his hands palm up and spread his fingers apart as he gave a tiny half-shrug, conveying his helplessness to answer. He did have a reason, a very specific reason, but as it was not something he had arrived at logically or rationally, he still hoped to persuade his friend to grant his request without getting into the "why."

The captain could be stubborn, and this time he dug in his heels: his mind was made up on the away team. Normally he would have at least given more consideration to what his first officer was asking, but Jim was very irritated by Smythe's behavior, and it was clouding his judgment. He smiled a bit indulgently at the half-Vulcan and said, "Mr. Spock, I think you're over-reacting; yeah, the guy's an asshole, but I'm sure that's all. So relax, I'm certain that we can handle it. And now we're done here. I'm due in the transporter room in just a few minutes." He started toward the door leading back onto the bridge.

Spock reacted by moving to physically block the door way. Jim stopped short in surprise and then barked, "Step aside, Mr. Spock."

Unthinkingly, the first officer grasped the captain by both shoulders and said an urgent voice, "Jim! You must listen to me! There is great danger awaiting you on the planet…" He stopped abruptly and released his grip on his friend when he saw Jim's eyes widen in surprise as some of what he was feeling flowed through into the man.

Spock had not meant for this to happen; he did have his shields up, but apparently not high enough to completely block the transfer of some of the emotional turmoil inside of him. This was not the first time such a thing had happened when he had been in physical contact with Jim. For some unknown reason, his captain was able to pick up his emotional state even through clothing, which normally stopped such transfer quite effectively, except when he did not have his shields up or in the case of exceedingly strong emotion; it should not have happened at all with his shields at the level where they had been. Perhaps soon he would make an effort to find out why this should be, but he recognized that this was not the time to pursue it.

As soon as Spock grasped him, Jim's index and middle fingers on both hands started buzzing, but he barely noticed because of what he was picking up of his friend's emotional state. In any case, the sensation stopped as soon as the half-Vulcan released him.

Jim stood rooted where he was and stared at his first officer. He then managed to stammer, "Wh…what was _that_?!"

Spock took a step backwards towards the door, flushing slightly as he lowered his gaze for a moment before looking back at his captain with troubled eyes. He replied, "Forgive me, Captain. I miscalculated and did not have my shields high enough to prevent some unintentional emotional transfer."

The captain remained wide-eyed as he said, "Spock, is _that_ what you're feeling?"

The half-Vulcan looked a bit chagrinned and replied, "It is…something of what I am feeling, Captain."

Jim asked, incredulous, "_Something_ of what you're feeling?"

Spock nodded and answered, "Affirmative. What I actually experience is more…intense."

The captain set his mouth into a hard line for a moment and then said, totally unexpectedly, "Show me," and pointed at Spock's hand and then touched the meld points on his own face.

It was Spock's turn to be wide-eyed and he stared at the man, surprised into silence. Jim pressed, "I mean, you can, right? Like what you did when we were on the _Narada_ and you were looking into that Romulan's mind?"

Spock finally found his voice again and said carefully, "I did meld with him to extract the information we required, but it did not involve any emotional transference. How did you know that was possible?" It was something that most people who had not experienced a meld would even know. Spock, of course, knew that Jim had met his future self, but he did not know about the meld that had happened between them.

Jim flushed darkly, thinking, _Shit! This is not the time to get into that!_ Thinking quickly, he answered, "I, uh…looked into it. After we started serving together. I thought I should, uh…know more about it…" he trailed off lamely. This was true, he'd done that, even if it was also true that most of his knowledge came instead from his first-hand experience. 

Spock narrowed his eyes at the captain but then his expression cleared as he seemed to accept what his friend said at face value. He said, "Very well." He briefly explained what would happen. "This will be a shallow meld. I will not pick up any of your thoughts or emotions, nor will I let anything through to you outside of my feelings around the issue under discussion." Trust Spock to find a diplomatic way to say "the thing we're arguing over.

The half-Vulcan then closed the distance between them, and he went on, "Put your hands on my shoulders, Captain." Jim shot him a puzzled glance, and he said, "You may find that the experience…destabilizes your equilibrium. This will allow you to steady yourself in that event." Trust Spock to find a diplomatic way to say, "This might knock you off your feet farm-boy, so hold on." And he knew it might happen because once, driven by a desire to better understand what he was going through, Nyota had asked to be allowed to feel the full intensity of his grief when they were on their way back from not-Vulcan-anymore and the _Narada_, and she had collapsed unconscious under the force of it. He had been able to catch her, and so she had not been injured, but armed with this knowledge, he now took steps to avoid the possibility that Jim would fall in the first place.

The captain looked skeptical but did as he was instructed. The first officer took the added precaution of bending one arm beneath his captain's and gripping the man firmly around the back of his upper arm. Now there was no way that Jim could fall if the experience overloaded his system.

Spock then looked directly into the captain's eyes and asked, "Are you ready, sir?" At his tight nod, the half-Vulcan reached toward Jim's psi-points and murmured, "My mind to your mind, my thoughts to your thoughts…" and touched his friend's face.

As soon as Spock's fingers made contact with his skin—the first time since their fight on the bridge that this had happened—the index and middle fingers of both of Jim's hands started buzzing fiercely, much stronger than ever before. But he only had a second or two to wonder about it before the half-Vulcan's emotional state began coming through to him. He thought he was ready for whatever would happen, but nothing could have prepared him for the sense of utter, black dread and sick fear that now flooded into him and threatened to overwhelm him. Jim's eyes momentarily went wide and he gasped as his vision narrowed to a point and black dots swam in front of his eyes. He fought desperately to remain standing, but he was close to blacking out and he swayed as his knees buckled.

Spock immediately jerked his fingers away from his captain's face, ending the meld. He grabbed Jim's shoulder with his now-free hand and with the other supporting points easily held him upright. The captain bowed his head and closed his eyes, breathing raggedly. They remained standing like this for a few seconds until Jim's breathing evened out and he was steady on his feet. He opened his eyes and looked at his first officer with a dazed expression on his face. Spock released him then and the captain dropped his hands from his friend's shoulders and took a step back; the buzzing in his fingers stuttering to a stop.

When he was able to speak, the captain said, "Jesus Christ, Spock! _That's_ what you're actually feeling?!"

Spock nodded once, his expression normal-neutral, as he said, "Yes, Jim. That is what I feel when I contemplate your being on the planet and my being on the ship." The half-Vulcan lowered his gaze for a moment; when he looked up again, there was tension hovering about his eyes and a slight tightness around his mouth but otherwise he maintained his appearance of complete calm and placid stillness.

Jim looked back at him in awe and asked, "Christ, how are you standing there so calmly? Gods! If I were feeling that, I'd be curled up in a ball on the floor! As it was, I only felt it for a minute, and I would have ended up the ground if you hadn't been holding on to me. How are you dealing with this? How do you do it?"

The half-Vulcan gazed back at him steadily and one corner of his mouth tipped up ever-so-slightly as he answered, "A life-time of practice." After a tiny pause, his expression became deadly serious, and he added, "And an awareness of the need to protect you," in soft but intense tone. Even as he spoke, he realized the complete, absolute truth of this sentiment and he felt it as a visceral jolt: he _needed_ to protect this man from any harm, _needed_ to protect him almost as he needed to breathe air. But he quickly pushed these puzzling feelings aside before they could become too distracting.

Jim sucked in a breath as a strong realization came to him in his turn. He blurted out, "Well, truth be told, if there was something I felt I needed to protect _you_ from, no matter what I was feeling inside, I'd force myself up off the floor and do whatever I had to in order to see it through, including restraining you if necessary and…" He stopped abruptly as understanding hit him again and he continued, very slowly, "And arguing…with you…to make…you…see…sense." He paused and gave Spock a sheepish look as he said, "Uh, kind of, umm…like what you've just been doing…" before trailing off again.

The half-Vulcan blinked at Jim in surprise, his mouth slightly open, and he felt one of those odd twists inside to know that his captain felt protective toward him in return. He closed his eyes and swallowed; when he opened his eyes again, his expression was again back to normal-neutral. Spock then inclined his head to express thanks and agreement.

Jim smiled back at him a little shakily and rubbed at his forehead. He ran a hand over his face and simply stood thinking and breathing deeply for a moment before he asked, "So, if I put you on the away team, Sulu stays on the ship?"

Spock replied, "I do think that would be best, Captain, considering the unknown nature of the problem facing the archaeological expedition."

"But if I do, it means that you and I will both be on the away team, and as you've pointed out on a number of occasions, that's against regulations," the captain put in.

One corner of Spock's mouth tipped up again slightly as he replied, "And as you so succinctly put it on the last such occasion, 'Fuck regulations'."

As the half-Vulcan had intended, his friend laughed brightly at that, and the mood in the room lightened considerably. Jim commented with a grin, "You're a quick study, Mr. Spock! I knew you'd catch on to how things work around here." The half-Vulcan acquiesced with a tilt of his head.

Jim then gave him a considering look and said, "Well, Spock, you've got your way. You're on the away team."

The first officer felt an almost overwhelming sense of relief flow through him. He briefly closed his eyes and an exhalation almost like a sigh escaped him before he looked at his captain and answered, "Thank you, Jim."

The captain smiled a little grimly and said, "Well, don't thank me yet. If you're right that there's something really dangerous about the situation we're about to walk into, it means that _you're_ now in the shit too."

Spock's replied, "True, but the important thing is that you will not be there without me beside you, to protect you in any way I can." Even though it was his duty as first officer to protect the captain, as he would protect any of the crew if necessary, he flushed slightly as the words came out of his mouth, and he found he was unable to keep the mingled relief and lingering concern he was feeling out of his eyes.

Jim felt his breath catch in his throat as he took in Spock's expression and then processed what his friend had just said about protecting him, again. Coming from someone else, it might have made him a bit angry, implying that he couldn't take care of himself. But coming from Spock, it gave him an unusually warm feeling inside, and he felt a blush rising in his face but before he could think about it too much, he said lightly, "Thanks, buddy; I appreciate that." After a moment's pause, he went on, "OK, Mr. Spock, I'll tell Mr. Sulu he's off the hook this time and then we can head on to the transporter room."

The first officer turned toward the door with the captain beside him, but before they were close enough to trip the sensor to open it, he reached out on impulse and closed a warm hand over Jim's shoulder, stopping his forward motion. The captain swiveled his head around and gave him a questioning look. The half-Vulcan found himself flushing slightly again under that frank gaze, but he pushed any consideration of "why" aside and said, a bit hesitantly, "Jim…thank you for…trusting me enough to take this seriously. Thank you for not simply…dismissing it…" he trailed off, not sure what else to say.

Jim laid a hand on his friend's back then without asking as he looked back at him gravely and replied, "Spock, thank you for trusting me enough to show me what you were feeling. It can't have been easy, as a Vulcan, to admit to something as illogical as a _premonition_."

Spock inclined his head and replied, "You are correct, Jim, it was not. But I have learned that it is better to regret something that one did than to regret something that one did not do." This was absolutely true, and he knew he would not be able to forgive himself if his premonition proved to be correct and Jim died or was seriously injured because his Vulcan pride had kept him from voicing his concerns. Something of this must have shown in his face because the captain's mouth opened slightly and the man stood blinking at him. But then his friend grinned and clapped him on the back before removing his hand as he said "OK, Spock, let's go find out what's going on down there." The half-Vulcan gave him a slight half-smile in return as he released his captain's shoulder and they walked on toward the door side by side.

As soon as they were on the bridge, the captain said, "Mr. Sulu, change of plans," before the helmsman could get out of the command chair. He went on, "Mr. Spock will be accompanying me on the away team. You have the conn, Mr. Sulu." If anyone on the bridge was surprised by the change, they hid it well.

Chekov then said, "Keptain, I hawe been monitoring zthe radiation output of zthis system's star, and it iz giwing off Gray's particles. Zthe actiwity is low now, but zthat could change at any moment."

The captain and the first officer shared a concerned glance. Stars with the chemistry of this one, with relatively high levels of both chromium and thallium, gave off copious quantities of this type of particle during their solar maximum period, when sunspot activity was at its peak, as it was now for this star. Although Gray's particles had no effect on communications signals, at high enough levels they disrupted transporter signals and also interfered with the shielding on the shuttles; fortunately, however, the shields on the ship were not affected, as they had significantly more power to devote to such protection.

The quantity of Gray's particles could fluctuate wildly, skyrocketing from almost nothing to dangerously high levels in the blink of an eye, and there was no telling how long they would stay that way; it could be anywhere from mere minutes to several days running. Gerald Smythe must have been aware of the problem with using a transporter in this star system, at the very least, but he hadn't seen fit to mention it to them. True, they had found out on their own, as one would expect, but still… What other things was he not telling them? What sort of secret was he trying to protect? Jim was suddenly very glad he had listened to his first officer on the makeup of the away team.

The navigator then said, "I hawe alerted Mr. Scott. He will meet you in zthe transporter room to explain further."

Jim said, "Thank you, Mr. Chekov." He then turned to his first officer and gestured toward the turbolift, saying, "Shall we, Mr. Spock?" The half-Vulcan answered, "Aye, sir," and they walked into the lift together.

They got off the lift in time to see Giotto and his security team walking into the transporter room just ahead of them. As promised, Scotty was waiting for them, pacing back and forth in the small room. He seemed unusually agitated, even for him. He stopped in mid-pace when he saw them and said, "Captain! Ah dinnae like the situation with this star! Mr. Chekov has told ye about the Gray's particles?"

Jim nodded and Scotty continued, "The output of these particles is completely unpredictable. There's nae way to forecast when they'll get too high to be safe to use the transporter. They're low right now, so we can get ye down to the planet, but then if ye need to leave in a hurry, it might nae be possible to get ye out then. True, we're eight light minutes out from the star, so with our sensors, we'll have a bit 'a warnin'. But not much 'cuz unlike the particles that ye find in a typical solar wind, which would take hours and hours to get here since they only go about 400 kilometer per second, Gray's particles zoom out at around 90% 'a light speed, so…" he trailed off and shrugged eloquently. If things went bad unexpectedly, they might or might not be able to get out, depending on what the star was doing at that moment.

Scotty continued, "'A course, we can always send a shuttle, since we have a wee bit 'a luck there, actually. There aren't any large flyin' beasties on this continent, so it should nae matter that the shields will nae be operative at high levels 'a the particles. But it will take a bit 'a travel time, since the shuttle will have to go slow enough so that the heat shielding on the nose will be enough to keep it from burnin' up in the atmosphere without the energy shields, ye know. Course, it would be better if ye dinnae go down there 'a 'tall, but Ah dinnae think Ah can stop ye, can Ah?" He cocked an eyebrow at the captain and looked at him speculatively.

Jim smiled back at him a little grimly and shook his head. He said, "Scotty, thanks for your concern and the warning. Got to go, regardless." Spock stood impassively by his side.

Scotty nodded and said, "Well, at least ye've got the sense to take Mr. Spock with ye." The captain looked at him a little surprised and was about to say something along the lines of, "Well, gee. Thanks for the vote of confidence!" when the chief engineer continued, "Ah dinnae think there's _anythin'_ ye cannae do when ye're together."

Jim stared at him for a just second and then grinned broadly and replied, "Sometimes I think that, too, Scotty." He turned his grin on his first officer, who looked back at him with an unreadable expression and inclined his head briefly. The captain turned back to the Scotsman and went on, "Don't worry, Scotty; we'll be alright," fervently hoping that this wouldn't be a case of "famous last words." He then glanced around at Spock and the waiting security team and gestured toward the transporter platform, saying, "Let's go, gentlemen," and they all stepped up and took their places.

The captain flipped open his communicator and said, "Lt. Uhura, patch me through to Dr. Smythe."

Nyota replied "Aye, sir," and got the expedition director on the line. When he answered she realized from the coordinates associated with the signal that he had moved some distance away from where he had been when they first made contact, but that wasn't unreasonable. One couldn't expect him to just stay in one place awaiting their arrival. She said then, "Go ahead, Captain."

Jim only got as far as "Dr. Smythe…" before the man interrupted him with sputtering impatience, "It's about time, Captain! I was beginning to think you weren't coming!"

The captain glanced at his first officer, who looked back at him with a dark expression in his eyes—the man's demanding rudeness was beginning to bother even Spock, apparently—and he clenched his teeth together briefly in irritation. He answered in as calm a tone as he could manage, "I told you it would take some time to get an away team together. But we're now ready to beam down to your location, Dr. Smythe."

"Finally!" came the reply. "I'll be waiting." A woman's voice was heard faintly in the background, saying in an admonishing tone, "Gerald! You shouldn't be so…" before something, or someone, cut her off.

The captain exchanged another glance with Spock, sharing a look of relief this time that at least there appeared to be _someone_ on the planet with some common decency, before he said, "Good. Kirk out," and he flipped his communicator closed. He looked at the transporter technician then and said, "Energize," and they disappeared in the golden swirls.

* * *

The away team materialized on a flat space in front of a ring of steep, heavily forested hills with an opening about 30 yards away along one curving arm. There was a short grass-like turf beneath their feet, and trees with oddly-shaped leaves were growing here and there. As they returned to solidity, they could see a man who could only be Dr. Smythe waiting for them a short distance from the opening. He was of middling height and rather spindly-looking, and he was wearing English riding boots, jodhpurs, a safari jacket, and a pith helmet, the very picture of an English gentleman-archaeologist from the late 19th century. He was flanked by a pleasant-looking older woman with grey hair and an air of some authority; she was dressed in sturdy boots, jeans that were starting to wear through on one knee, and a plain white t-shirt smudged with dirt.

As the away team started walking toward them, a girl ran up to the woman and said something that caused her face to take on a look of genuine alarm. She turned to her companion and spoke a few hurried words before rushing off after the girl, back through the opening between the hills. There was a stiff wind blowing from behind the away team, and most of what the woman said was lost, but Spock's Vulcan hearing managed to catch, "…Gerald… …remem… …old...ou. " His brain filled in the last bit as "…remember what I told you," which he felt was a logical guess, but it left the question of just what she was urging him to remember completely unanswered.

The man stepped toward them with an ingratiatingly toothy smile and held out his hand toward Jim, saying, "Captain Kirk, thank you for coming to meet us," and then he laughed a little nervously while glancing back in the direction the woman had gone. Smythe's manner had changed so radically that the captain wondered instantly if the woman had been upbraiding him over his previous behavior, if that was what he was supposed to remember. But he brushed those thoughts aside to focus on the man in front of them. He accepted the proffered hand as the man continued, "I am Dr. Gerald Smythe; that was my assistance, Dr. Julia Marinescu. She was called away unexpectedly; please forgive her absence."

Jim introduced the other members of the away team to him and was pleasantly surprised when he didn't attempt to shake hands with Spock.

Dr. Smythe said then, "Gentlemen, if you will now follow me…" and he led the way to the opening in the hills. The ring of hills enclosed a flat space roughly the size of four football pitches laid out more or less in a square. A small stream flanked by tall trees ran across one corner to vanish in a cleft in the rocks, making for a picturesque setting. But that was not what captured Jim's attention and brought a small gasp from one of the security team. For before them lay a scene of devastation: ripped tents, smashed equipment, food stores scattered and ground into the dirt, torn-up clothing and personal effects strewn about.

The captain asked in a sharp voice, "Dr. Smythe! What happened here?!"

The man grimaced and a look of impatience came into his face as he answered, "I will get into that momentarily. There is a more important matter to discuss first. As you can see, we have a bit of a situation here,"—Jim and Spock shared a quick glance at this massive understatement—"and it is imperative that these priceless artifacts be beamed aboard your ship at the earliest possible opportunity." He gestured to three sturdy-looking crates.

The captain was about the question him further when a young man with a thick shock of dark auburn hair and deep brown eyes came up to them a little hesitantly. Smythe growled, "What is it _now_, Waverly?" The young man was tall and powerfully built, but he seemed somewhat intimidated by the overbearing director, and he said hesitantly, "Uh, Dr. Smythe, umm…do you want…" when Kirk's communicator chimed.

Jim had barely gotten out "Kirk here," when Scotty's urgent voice said, "Captain! There was just an enormous spike in the Gray's particles comin' off that star! The mass a' particles will reach us in about eight minutes and 45 seconds, but we need a little margin for error for the transporter, so there's actually less time than that. Unless ye can wrap up your business in the next six and a half minutes, ye'll be stuck until we can send a shuttle or the star settles down to where we can use the transporter again."

Smythe had started grinding his teeth when the communicator call interrupted them, and he now said insistently to Jim, "You see now how urgent it is that these artifacts be beamed up without delay, Captain!" the young man who had come to ask the question momentarily forgotten.

Waverly's eyes went wide at what Smythe said and he faltered, "Dr. Smythe, do you really think…" when the man, not really listening, interrupted him with, "Oh, for God's sake, Waverly, just use your own judgment for once! Can't you see I'm busy?!" He turned back to Jim to resume making his demands.

Spock focused on Waverly as Jim's attention was captured by Smythe's carping whine. As he watched, the young man looked at the expedition leader with an expression of shock that was quickly followed by one of disgust. But then over the disgust came a look of resolve as he turned and sprinted in the direction of the only intact tent in view, some distance away next to the curving protection of the flanking hill. The young man disappeared into the tent and a moment later, he was running back out of it with the woman assistant close behind him. Spock could see the murderous look on her face even at this distance.

The captain was just in the act of flipping open his communicator to tell Scotty to beam up the crates of artifacts when Spock put a hand on his wrist, stopping him. He said, "Wait, Captain; I think there may be something more important to get off the planet than these crates," his eyes on the approaching pair. Smythe's mouth formed into a near snarl, and his face was going purple with rage, but before he could protest, the woman was now near enough for them to hear her, and she started yelling as she ran, "Gerald! Are you…out…of your…mind?! You…stop…right…there!"

Smythe opened his mouth to reply when she ran up, gasping, and barked at him, "How could you…even think those…damned artifacts are more…important than Dr. Morgan?!" He shouted back at her, "Because they're worth more than all of our lives put together!" She threw her hands up in exasperation and turned her back on him.

Her breathing now somewhat under control, the assistant director addressed the captain directly, remembering his name from the initial conversation over the communicator. "Captain Kirk! We have a gunshot victim…over in the tent there. He needs…urgent medical attention. If we're about to get inundated…by Gray's particles, _he_ needs to get off this miserable rock, not those artifacts."

Spock's eyebrows shot up to his hairline while Jim's eyes went wide and he almost shouted, "Gunshot victim?!" He rounded on Smythe and said forcefully, "You are no longer in charge here, _Doctor_ Smythe." The expedition director started a spluttering objection, but the captain cut him off, "You've got a lot of explaining to do, but first we have to concentrate on getting as many of your people to safety on the ship as we can." He turned to the young man and said, "Mr. Waverly, go get this Dr. Morgan out into the open and prepare him for transport," and Waverly took off at a run.

The captain swiveled toward the assistant, saying, "Dr. Marinescu, how many people are in the expedition?" Smythe stepped forward aggressively, not liking his demotion in the least, but Spock moved to physically block him from getting any closer to the captain. The first officer didn't say a word, but something in his expression stopped the man cold, and Smythe then seemed to shrink in on himself. He stood giving the half-Vulcan a resentful look, but he ceased trying to interfere.

Dr. Marinescu replied, "There are seventeen of us total. Eight undergraduates, three graduate students, Dr. Tanaka, Dr. Morgan, Dr. T'Pel, Dr. Smythe, and me." Spock's head snapped toward her at the mention of a Vulcan name but he did not question her, as it was vital to focus on the task before them, but at least that explained why Smythe had not tried to shake his hand.

Realizing that she had only mentioned sixteen people, Dr. Marinescu's face took on a troubled look and she added, "Oh, and Dr. Watkins. He's the one who did all this, but we don't know where he is now. He hasn't shot at us since yesterday, so I don't know if he's even anywhere close by. "

The captain speculated, "So maybe he's wondered off somewhere in his madness? Well, let's hope it's something like that." He then asked her, "Are there any other expeditions close by anywhere?"

She replied, "No. We're the last ones on this land mass. The digging season in this hemisphere is coming to an end, and everyone else has already left. And since no one on the planet answered our distress call, I think we may be the only ones here, period. It's a little early for anyone to be starting up in the other hemisphere."

Jim nodded and flipped open his communicator and said, "_Enterprise_, this is Captain Kirk." Uhura answered and he said, "Lieutenant, run a scan for other humanoid life signs besides the 22 people at this location. We'll soon be beaming people up six at a time while we can, so number here will change. Keep me informed of what you find. " She replied, "Aye, sir" and he finished, "Kirk out." 

The captain looked at Dr. Marinescu and said, "OK, we'll find him and deal with him later," before briefly fixing Smythe with a dark stare. He looked away from the man in disgust. Kirk then turned his attention back to the rescue effort and the assistant director, saying "If we work quickly, we can get all of the students plus Dr. Morgan out of here before the Gray's particles make the transporter inoperative. Round everybody up and get them to assemble over by that tent."

She was just getting geared up to run back the way she had come when a loud metallic clanging started up. Spock saw Waverly running a metal rod around the inside of a large triangular-shaped piece of metal that was hanging from a tree branch near the lone tent. As the first officer watched, people started heading toward the sound.

The reaction of the two expedition leaders to the sound could not have been more different. After a moment of disbelieving silence, Dr. Smythe said in a belligerent tone, "What the hell is that kid doing? This is no time to be calling people in for a meal!" Dr. Marinescu, who had exclaimed, "Good goin', Peter!" at the first "clang!" spun toward him and snapped impatiently, "Shut it, Gerald! He's not calling them in to eat!" and her expression followed that statement with a silent …_you idiot!_

Dr. Marinescu's face cleared as she turned toward the captain and explained in an approving tone, "That's the dinner chime. Peter Waverly is one of the graduate students and is more-or-less the student lead here. He's taken the initiative and used the quickest method to get everybody to come to the tent." As they hurried toward the rendezvous point themselves, the sound ceased and Waverly ducked into the tent to help the wounded man, taking three of the students with him.

The other students were standing in a clutch with wide frightened eyes while an elderly Asian man moved slowly toward them with his hands raised in a calming gesture; this must be Dr. Tanaka, Jim realized. There was also a striking-looking young Vulcan woman with short jet black hair and ramrod straight posture, who could only be Dr. T'Pel. She was dressed in boots, jeans and a t-shirt, like everyone else on the expedition team except Dr. Smythe; such casual attire was unusual for Vulcans, even in field conditions like these, but the fact that she was here at all, working with an otherwise purely human crew, marked her as atypical. She stood impassively next to the students and watched the approaching group intently, her attention caught by the Vulcan with them. Otherwise, her expression gave away nothing.

As they reached the cluster of people, Waverly and the other three students came out of the tent carrying the wounded man on an improvised stretcher; his left side was heavily bandaged, and blood was beginning to seep through the cloth. Jim said, "I'm Captain Kirk of the USS _Enterprise_. We can take time for proper introductions later. As you may have heard, we're about to get slammed by Gray's particles, and we have to get as many of you off the planet as we can before that happens, starting with Dr. Morgan here and the students. Our transporter is standing by."

The captain pointed out where people should stand and where Dr. Morgan's stretcher should be set down. The injured man groaned softly at the inadvertent jostling; one of the students knelt beside him and gripped one of his hands briefly and said, "Hang in there, Dr. M; we're almost out of here," before standing up and taking her place again. She swiveled her head around toward the captain then and he could see there were tears in her eyes. Jim clenched his jaws together and balled one hand up into a fist; he looked over at Spock, his outrage over Smythe's attitude plainly evident on his face as he flipped open his communicator.

The captain took a deep, calming breath and said, "Kirk to Transporter Room," and the reply came back, "Go ahead, Captain." Kirk went on, "Six to beam up on these coordinates," he rattled them off,"…and have a medical team meet them in the transporter room. One of the expedition members is wounded." He paused for the technician to enter the coordinates and then said, "Energize." The six people disappeared and the captain finished, "Alert Lieutenant Uhura that there are now just 16 people at this location. I'll contact you when the next group is ready to go. Kirk out."

He turned to the remaining people and said, "OK, the rest of you students get into position for transport."

Five of the students complied immediately, but Waverly shot a quick glance at Dr. T'Pel and then shook his head, saying, "I'm staying. Take Dr. Tanaka instead. He's been having a lot of trouble with his back the last few days."

Dr. T'Pel's eyes widened by a millimeter or two, and a tiny look of alarm came and went over her face in the blink of an eye; Spock would have missed it had he not been watching her closely. She looked at the young man and said sharply, "Peter, do not be foolish! You must take this opportunity to get to safety!"

He gazed back at her steadily and replied firmly, "No. I'm staying," and he set his mouth into a thin line, clearly indicating his determination. He blushed then but did not lower his eyes. Spock saw it all, having turned his gaze on Waverly when the man answered the Vulcan woman.

The captain cut in at that point and said, "We don't have time to argue about this!" He glanced quickly between Dr. T'Pel and Waverly and made a snap decision. He said, "Dr. Tanaka will go with them," as he went up to the elderly man and, grasping his arm, guided him into position with the waiting group. He said in a firm voice, "Now, don't argue, Dr. Tanaka, or you'll all be stuck here," as the man opened his mouth to protest. The professor bowed his head in resignation, understanding from Kirk's tone that this was not open for discussion. Jim called the transporter room, and six more people were whisked away to the safety of the ship, and Uhura was told they were now down to ten people on the planet.

After a longer time than normal, the second transport was completed, and Scotty's agitated voice said to them, "Captain, that's it! We almost had trouble with that last bunch. It's nae safe to try any more."

Jim answered, "Understood, Scotty. Get the largest shuttle ready for launch…" The chief engineer interrupted, "Already done, sir, and just standing by for your orders." The captain said, "Well done, Scotty! Launch it!" as he shared an appreciative glance with Spock: they really did have a terrific crew.

A moment later, the Scotsman came back with, "She's away, sir. But it'll be close to an hour before she reaches ye. Don't want her to burn up in the atmosphere, ye know."

The captain repeated, "Understood, Scotty. Kirk out." He took the time then to introduce Spock and the security team to the remaining expedition people before saying, "OK, we've got some time before the shuttle gets here, so you'll have an opportunity to pack up some of your stuff to take with us, after I find out..." He stopped abruptly as he realized there were only three of these people in view instead of the expected four. "Where's Dr. Smythe?" he asked with a frown. "That man owes us some answers!"

Dr. Marinescu shrugged and said, "He's probably off sulking somewhere, but I think I know where he's likely to be. You stay here; I'll go find him." She headed off toward the opening in the ring of hills.

Kirk frowned and shook his head, muttering "Unbelievable!" under his breath. He shook his head again and then asked the other two expedition members, "Where's the latrine?" Dr. T'Pel responded, "I will show you," and she led him off toward the back wall of the enclosing hills. Under Giotto's direction, the security team began picking up clothing and bits and pieces of equipment from the ground and brushing the dirt off of them before placing them carefully on a table that had somehow escaped destruction, all while keeping a wary eye out for danger.

Waverly looked at the devastation around them and sadly began to gather up some of the clothing and possessions scattered about. It was time to be doing something; they had spent enough time immobilized by shock after the unexpected attack.

Spock watched him for a moment and then went to stand next to him, facing the opposite direction from the young man.

Peter Waverly stiffened when the Vulcan commander approached him. He was in no mood for the lecture about emotions and propriety he was certain he was going to hear from the man, and a look of defiance settled over his face.

Spock stood silently next to him for just a moment before he said, "You stayed for her." It was a flat statement, not a question, and there was also no question in either of their minds that "her" was the Vulcan woman.

Waverly started slightly, and it was on his lips to deny it, when he suddenly deflated and answered simply, "Yes." He braced himself for the lecture.

But it never came. As he looked sideways at the half-Vulcan, he saw one side of the man's mouth tip up ever-so-slightly. And then he got the shock of his life when the commander raised a hand and patted him on the shoulder and said, "Good man," before dropping his hand back to his side. Spock then turned to look him square in the face, and they locked eyes for a moment. Waverly gaped at him as he took in the open approval in Spock's expression, but then he grinned and said, "Thank you, Commander." They nodded to each other and Spock headed off in the same direction that the captain and Dr. T'Pel had gone. Waverly watched him for a moment with a speculative look on his face before he went back to picking up the most important-looking articles he could find in the chaos at his feet.

Soon enough the captain and the first officer were back by the tent, while Dr. T'Pel started sorting through the items that had been placed on the table. Almost 15 minutes later, Dr. Marinescu returned with Smythe in tow; he looked angry, worried, defiant and ingratiating by turns, as if he could not decide what his mood should be and was trying out several for the best fit.

Jim clenched his jaws together for a moment before he said in a commanding tone, "Dr. Smythe! You are now going to tell me, in detail, what happened here and why the _hell_ you failed to mention before we beamed down here that _one_ of your team had been _shot_ by _another_ one of your team who has a _firearm_!"

Smythe bristled and puffed himself up as he replied, "I don't think I like your tone, _Captain_!" almost sneering as he said the last word. He continued, "You don't have any right to talk to me that way! I'm not one of your subordinates!"

This was too much for Spock. He deliberately walked right into the man's personal space and said, "You _will_ answer him," using the exact same tone of voice and the exact same inflection that he had used to try to compel Scotty to answer his own question when Kirk and the engineer had beamed aboard the _Enterprise_ while it was travelling at warp. The commander was significantly taller than Smythe, and he stood over the shorter man giving him a Vulcan glare, which was like a human glare, only it was the glare of black ice under headlights, not warm red fire, and it was as cold as infinite space.

Smythe practically yelped in alarm, but when Spock did not back up a single inch and no one came to the expedition leader's defense, he seemed to shrink again. He then almost stammered, "I…I'm going to answer him; there's no need to get rude about it," as he took a large step back. Spock looked for a moment as if he would follow, but he stood where he was, face now back to Vulcan impassivity.

The captain walked over to stand in front of Smythe and crossed his arms over his chest, looking at the man expectantly, his face stern. The expedition director cleared his throat a couple of times and began, "As I explained the first time we spoke, this is a very delicate matter. The reputation of the school must not be damaged. If word of this gets out, it will cause a scandal, and some of our largest donors will almost certainly withdraw their funding. And it will be hard to recruit the best faculty, to say nothing of the difficulties of attracting quality students. Parents might be reluctant to let their precious offspring enroll in the school if they think we're negligent, taking the students into dangerous situations."

Kirks scowled at him and asked, "Did you think my _bridge crew_ would sell this story to one of the tabloids or something?" He ground his teeth briefly and then went on, not waiting for Smythe to answer, "And in any case, this _is_ all going to come out anyway when I make my report to Starfleet Command about what happened here. There will be no covering it up. And it will not look at all good for you that you _neglected_ to tell us that we were about to walk into a very dangerous situation. If you end up with a reputation for being negligent, it will be well deserved."

The expedition director bowed his head in resigned acknowledgment of this fact and didn't say anything else. The captain prompted him, rather harshly, "Tell me what happened."

Smythe looked up and sighed but then went on, "Well, yesterday morning, everything seemed fine. Bob, err, that is, Dr. Watkins, seemed completely normal, but he said there was another location he wanted to examine as a possibility for next season so he wouldn't be going with us to the dig site. He didn't want to take anyone with him; he said it was such an odd hunch that he wanted to inspect it by himself first."

Spock asked, "Was this a normal occurrence with Dr. Watkins?"

Dr. Marinescu answered, "No, it wasn't. But it was reasonable in light of how close we are to completing our work at the current site. If we have solid prospects for the next season, it's easier to get adequate funding lined up."

Smythe continued, "We returned to camp at our normal time to find almost everything destroyed. That tent behind us was a spare, and it was packed up, so it was not damaged. Of course, I feared for the artifacts in the crates, but they apparently had not been touched."

Spock wondered about that but didn't say anything. It seemed odd that they had been spared, but there were too many unknowns about this situation, such as the motive for the destruction and violence (assuming there was one, that the man was not simply crazy) to speculate fruitfully.

Giotto asked, "So you didn't set any kind of a guard on your camp?"

Smythe looked affronted and snapped, "Of course not! We're scholars, not criminals!"

Spock said dryly, "With regards to at least one of your company, that is not an accurate statement."

The director seemed about to protest but a look from his assistant stopped him. She explained further, "We never had a need to before. Even when there are other expeditions in the area, we've always respected each others' sites. This is our twelfth season here, and nothing like this has ever happened before."

The security chief responded, "I see. I'm guessing that there aren't any animals that try to get into your food, then?"

Smythe was mollified by that and answered, "No. There are some fairly large animals, one that's a rather like a bear and another reminiscent of a badger. They both hunt the local wildlife, some of which is also rather large, but none of them have ever bothered any of the camps to my knowledge."

Dr. Marinescu added, "We think maybe the local animals don't recognize us or what we eat as food. There's also a theory that they just don't like the way we smell."

Dr. T'Pel put in, "In any case, Dr. Smythe is correct that there has never been a report of any species of the native fauna attacking a person of any race."

Dr. Smythe picked up the narrative. "We were going over the damage, seeing what could be salvaged, and Julia was starting to organize a search party to try to find Watkins when he started shooting at us from that hill." He pointed to the tallest hill in view, almost due west of their current position. He went on, "Had I not sneezed at the precise moment that I did, I would probably be dead, as a shot went right over my head. He fired two more shots that missed and then he managed to hit Dr. Morgan. We grabbed Morgan and we all ran over here. As you can see, a spur of the hill behind us blocks the line of sight from where he was."

The assistant director said, "We didn't hear any more shots after that, and we haven't seen hide nor hair of him since. We think he's out of ammunition."

Spock asked, "Did you know he had a firearm before he began shooting?"

Smythe replied, "Oh yes. We all knew he had it; he's brought a rifle with him for the past five seasons. He likes target shooting; until yesterday, it seemed like a harmless hobby. Odd, but harmless."

Dr. T'Pel put in, "As Dr. Marinescu stated, he is most likely out of ammunition. When we were setting up here, he dropped a box of shells, and I helped him pick them up. I counted 45 of them, and he had already expended 41 of those on various occasions, practicing target shooting. At least, I heard 41 shots over the weeks we have been here. Those plus the four he fired yesterday make 45."

Giotto asked, "Might he have had another box of ammo?"

She shook her head and responded, "I do not think so. When I was helping him with the spilled ammunition, he thanked me, saying that it was all he had this year, that he had accidentally neglected to put another box of shells in his luggage."

Spock then asked, out of simple curiosity, "How were you able to contact us, with your long-range communications equipment smashed?" He gestured to the pile of metal and plastic close to his feet.

Waverly spoke up for the first time since Smythe had begun his explanation, saying, "Lanie McDougal, one of the graduate students who was beamed up to the ship, is a wiz with this sort of thing, and she managed to cobble together something we could use from our short-range communicators and some undamaged bits of other electronics. That's how we were able to get through to you."

At that moment, the captain's own communicator beeped and he answered, "Kirk here."

Uhura's voice said, "Captain, we've completed a scan of the entire planet for humanoid life signs, and the ten people remaining at your location are the only ones that we found."

Jim asked, "Any possibility the Gray's particles might be interfering with the scans?"

She answered, "No, sir. Gray's particles have no effect on life signs. And we triple checked the area around you for 100 kilometers in every direction, and your signals were the only ones. If there was something wrong with the scanner, it wouldn't have found your own life signs so consistently."

Kirk said, "Thanks, Lieutenant. Anything else to report?"

She replied, "No, sir," and he said, "Alright. Kirk out."

The captain turned to the group and said, "Well, I guess that explains why he hasn't been shooting at anyone lately. He must be dead." He breathed a sigh of relief. "We'll have to figure out a way to find his body, but that can wait until we're back on the ship." He thought a moment and went on, "OK, I guess this means you can go back to packing up what you can before the shuttle gets here." The _Enterprise_ people helped as best they could, just to be doing something.

They had been at this about 20 minutes when Spock abruptly stopped what he was doing. He had been waiting to feel the relief that should have come with the knowledge that this unstable individual was no longer a danger to them, but it did not come. Instead, he had once again begun to feel a mounting anxiety and a shiver of dread went up his spine. He was standing with his back to the hill to the northeast of their position, and he now felt a prickling on the back of his neck, as if someone was watching him covertly. He stayed where he was for a moment, analyzing the situation, and then he went to find Jim.

Jim had been glancing in Spock's direction off and on. He had been expecting to see his friend begin to relax now that the threat of a gun-toting mad man was past, but that had not happened. If anything, the half-Vulcan looked more tense than he had at any time since they had beamed down to the planet. The captain looked up from the jumbled mass of bits from the communications equipment he was picking through when his first officer appeared by his side. He stood up and asked in a low voice, "Everything OK there, Commander?"

Spock replied softly, "Captain, there is someone watching us from the hill to the northeast."

The captain asked, "Maybe it's just one of those animals Smythe was telling us about?"

The half-Vulcan shook his head and replied, "I do not think so, Captain. I know it is against all reason, but I think it is Dr. Watkins."

Jim stared at him for a moment and then asked, "How can that possibly be? There weren't any other humanoid life signs besides the ones for those of us right here…" he trailed off.

Spock answered, "I do not know, Jim, but someone _is_ watching us, and it is my belief that it is Dr. Watkins."

The captain started, realizing that the creepy feeling he'd been trying to ignore for the past few minutes was somehow telling him the same thing. But before they could discuss it further, his communicator beeped and he flipped it open and answered, "Kirk here."

The unfamiliar voice of the female shuttle pilot came back, "Captain, this is Ensign Yildirim piloting the shuttle. We're just a minute or so away now, approaching from the east. We can see your location, and we'll set down in that flat spot, sort of close to the east wall of hills."

Jim and Spock spotted the shuttle as they turned to look in that direction, and Kirk answered, "Very good. We'll await your arrival." He was about to sign off and cut the connection when they heard a "pop" sound. A split second later, the shuttle lurched a bit and slowed drastically, not so much advancing now as practically hovering. Over the open com link, the pilot could be heard saying to the co-pilot, "What was _that_? What happened?!"

The two officers swiveled toward the sound and were visually combing the hills when, about twenty seconds later, a puff of smoke appeared near the crest of the hill to the northeast, followed by a second pop. The shuttle stopped it's forward motion entirely and hung motionless in the air for a brief moment, and then suddenly it was falling from the sky.

Yildirim shouted, "Captain! We've been hit! We're losing altitude fast!"

Smoke began pouring out of one side of the shuttle, and it started spinning out of control as it plummeted downward. Everyone at the camp had now noticed the shuttle, and they watched in horror as it crashed near the top of a heavily wooded ridge that was visible above the eastern hills enclosing the camp. Giotto and the other security team members fired their phasers toward the spot where the smoke and the pop had come from, but the heavy tree cover prevented any of them from getting a clean shot. But at least maybe Watkins, for surely it was he, would think twice about shooting back at them. Everyone else scrambled for cover behind the tent, as it was just tall enough to block the line of sight from top of the northeastern hill.

Jim barked into his communicator, "Shuttle crew! Report!"

Ensign Yildirim answered him, "Captain, the nose of the shuttle looks crumpled from what I can see from the inside, although otherwise it seems more or less intact. But the propulsion and steering systems were damaged by whatever hit us. I'm alright, just banged up. But Crewman Ferreira wasn't strapped in, and he has a badly broken leg. He's going to need medical attention as soon as possible." They could hear a keening wail in the background.

Kirk replied, "Do what you can to help him; we'll get to you as soon as we can. As a precaution, get a phaser out of the emergency stores and set it on heavy stun. And stay in the shuttle! If you see a stranger approaching you, do _not_ open the doors!"

The shuttle pilot answered, "Aye, aye sir!" thinking, _You don't have to tell _us_ twice!_

The captain said, "Kirk out," and he closed his communicator. He then turned to the people clustered around him and said, "Well, great. Our shuttle has just been shot down by a dead man who's out of ammunition." He wondered silently how they were going to fight this apparent zombie who could apparently pull ammunition out of thin air. Well, at least Spock was with him, and he felt another rush of gratitude that his first officer had talked his way onto the landing party. Together, they'd figure something out. They would have to, if they wanted to get off this rock alive.

* * *

**Author's Note:** I'm back, more or less; I still have other things I need to concentrate on, so it may be a couple of weeks before the next chapter, but I'll try not to let ya'll go too long with this cliff hanger. This story arc will probably be at least two more chapters, so there will be at least one more cliff hanger, but that keeps people wanting to read more, right?

I made up the Gray's particles. As far as I know, there isn't any such thing. And if there were, they almost certainly would travel at the same relatively slow rate as other particles coming off the star. But hey, since I'm making all of this up anyway (or at least, most of it)…

There really is a Neptune-plus-sized planet in the habitable zone orbiting the Sun-like star, HD10180, 127 light years from Earth. And it probably does actually have one or more rocky moons. But, such a moon would almost certainly be tidally locked, rotating around its axis in about the same time it takes to orbit the planet, so that one side always faces the planet, like our own moon. But I'm ignoring this fact for the sake of the story. This moon will rotate like a normal planet with a regular, frequent day/night sequence. When I read that there might be habitable moons around gas giants elsewhere in the galaxy, I just thought it was a cool idea and decided to incorporate it into this story.

That's all for now. Thanks for reading!


	13. Opening Strategy

**Disclaimer: I don't own nuttin', not no way, not no how.**

Chapter 13: Opening Strategy

The captain of the USS _Enterprise_ only took a moment to think about the irony of their situation—the crew of a starship, in command of the most advanced technology their civilization had to offer, in danger of being killed by the technology of a by-gone era—before another "pop" sounded from the hill and his brain flipped back into leadership/survival mode. Two of the security team, Crewman Paekotehi and Crewman Boreyev, were flanking the tent, one looking out from each side, hunkering down as far as possible; these men obviously had not been hit. He then looked around for Ensign Yeboah and Giotto; the security chief had shoed the ensign over to a rocky spur sprouting from the hillside immediately to the east of the tent. The rock offered good protection from the direction of the shooter while having a convenient cleft through which the woman could aim and fire.

Giotto himself, typically taking point, was more in the open. His only protection from the mad man on the hill was a screen of semi-obscuring leaves afforded by one of the few trees growing within the enclosed space.

Kirk said, "Good, we're all still alive," and breathed a sigh of relief. He flipped open his communicator and said in a tight voice, "Kirk to _Enterprise_."

Uhura answered, "Captain! Are you alright? What happened to the shuttle? We were about to call you! Everyone's bio-indicators just went through the roof!"

The captain replied, "That's probably because the same apparently dead guy who just shot down the shuttle is firing at us from northeast of our current position." Her quick inhalation came faintly over the line; she didn't ask any questions but she was thinking, _WHAT?! _ He continued, "Lieutenant, alert Medical that Crewman Ferreira broke his leg in the shuttle crash. If Dr. McCoy is still in surgery, ask someone else there to call Ensign Yildirim and talk her through whatever it is she can do for him until we can reach them. And run another scan for humanoid life signs in our immediate area, concentrating on the portion to the northeast. Report when the scan is complete." She replied, "Aye, aye sir," and he signed off.

Jim turned to the people around him and said, "Our first priority is to get somewhere more secure than this. If Watkins doesn't care about wasting ammo, he could just start firing through the tent at any time, so we have to get out of here. We need to get on the other side of these hills behind us to the south, but to do that we're going to have to run across more-or-less open ground to the gap in the hills, and just depend on covering phaser fire to protect us. It's risky, but it's our only option that I can see."

Dr. Marinescu said, "We might not have to do that. Just behind us there's a hidden entrance to a passage that originally went all the way through to the south side. It was built by the Tridecagonians for an unknown purpose and it was discovered and excavated by one of the early expeditions, but it isn't maintained. In the winter this area gets an astounding amount of rain, which drains through these hills and causes flooding and consequent erosion in the passage. We should be able to get inside, since the Tridecagonians heavily reinforced the area around the entrance—that's why the people who discovered the passage were even able to open the door—but further into the hill, it might easily be blocked."

Peter Waverly cleared his throat and said, "Uh, Dr. Marinescu, the passage is navigable. I know it's supposed to be off limits, but…" he stopped, looking somewhat trepidatious.

The other expedition people were now staring at him and from Smythe's dark expression, it looked like the man was about to start upbraiding the student, so the captain interrupted, "Let's get into the passage before we discuss this further. It's right behind us?" Smythe's expression momentarily darkened further at being stopped from having his rant, but then his face cleared and he nodded and said, "Yes; it's over where you can see a slab of rock that appears to be out of alignment with the surrounding stones."

The captain spotted the area and then whistled to get the attention of Giotto and Ensign Yeboah. When they turned to look at him, he gestured to indicate himself and the people with him and pointed at the hillside behind them, signing what they were intending to do. Next he pointed at the two security officers then pointed at the hillside, indicating that they should follow. They nodded to show they understood. Kirk said, "Alright, let's go, then. Lead the way, Dr. Marinescu."

The assistant director turned and led them to a slightly odd-looking spot in the side of the hill directly behind them. It appeared to be just another spur, but if one looked closely, one could see that a large rock on the spur seemed to be slightly misaligned with the rest, just as Smythe had said. Dr. Marinescu reached up almost as far as she was able and pressed against the slab. It pivoted slowly but smoothly, making almost no noise. Immediately inside was an alcove big enough for their entire party at once, but this narrowed to a dark tight passage that wound into the hill. A current of air blew toward them, carrying an odd musty smell.

Kirk motioned the expedition people into the alcove first, then he followed with Spock, and the two security crewmen brought up the rear. Giotto and Ensign Yeboah both had to dash across open ground to make it to the safety of the passage. The security chief motioned for her to go first while he laid down covering phaser fire. He quickly followed, but as no one at the passage had a view of the northeastern hillside, he had to make the run unprotected. A pop rang out, and a spurt of dust sprouted from just behind him as the bullet hit the ground with a "thunk" and disintegrated into a shower of lead fragments as the wind caught the dust and blew it away. Giotto's already fast heart beat ratcheted up when he heard the sound of the strike and he ran faster than he ever thought he could, making it to the cover of the tent and then to the passage without being hit.

When all ten of them were in the space, with Spock standing just to the left of Jim, Marinescu said, "I'm going to close this now; it'll be pitch black for a few minutes, but just wait and you'll be able to see enough to go forward." She then pushed on the slab, and it pivoted back closed. As she warned, they were in complete darkness, the close air now still around them.

To his dismay, Jim found himself starting to sweat; his heart began pounding, and he struggled to control his breathing. Well, great; this was just what he needed now, to be reminded of a childhood terror. Before Frank, he had never been bothered by the dark in any way, but one of the punishments his stepfather had devised was to lock him in the dank, spider-infested basement of the Iowa farmhouse where he had spent his childhood, with no light, no food, no water, and no way out, sometimes for hours at a time.

This punishment had started when Jim was only six and had continued until his mother had finally divorced Frank when he was 11, and it always ended up with him feeling small, terrified and helpless, and absolutely sick with fear, no matter how staunchly he tried to resist those reactions. Worse, the repeated exposure to musty inky blackness, forced on him by a man he hated, had set up a Pavlovian response in him, so that when he was now confronted with those same circumstances, it triggered all those old feelings. Being in just the dark was fine—he could never have chosen a career in space otherwise—but when it was combined with rank stuffy air and a lurking monster, well, that was another matter.

Jim _hated_ feeling this way, and he fought against it, knowing he needed to get control of himself to be able to deal with the situation at hand. He had just taken the third of a series of deep calming breaths when he felt a warm hand sliding down his left arm, and then his first officer's hand settled over the back of his own. The captain felt a sense of serene reassurance flow into him, while the index and middle fingers of both hands started up the now-expected buzz, with the sensation being more pronounced in the hand that was under Spock's. During the meld in the ready room, the buzzing in his fingers had been almost painful, but here it was a soft, comforting hum.

In place of his initial rising panic, Jim was now feeling the half-Vulcan's calm certainty that they _would_ figure a way to get out of this mess alive. As he took that conviction and made it his own, his heart rate and breathing returned to normal. Spock left his hand where it was for a couple of seconds and then gave Jim's hand a gentle squeeze before ending the contact. Jim reached over then and briefly laid his hand on his first officer's back to convey wordless thanks; what his friend has just done for him was pretty damn awesome. When they had some privacy, he'd have to ask Spock how the man knew he needed help.

Before long, a faint glow started at the top of the passage and spread down the walls until it was producing a fairly strong light. Spock said, "Fascinating," very quietly; Jim, now completely recovered (hmm, maybe he just needed to have Spock by his side when he ran into situations like this), whistled softly and commented, "Whoa! Cool! Triggered by carbon dioxide?"

Dr. Marinescu answered, "Yes; it's a chemical compound that fluoresces when exposed to carbon dioxide; the soil in the passage is full of it. With so many of us in here, it's giving off a gratifyingly large amount of light."

Kirk asked, "Can we block that door from the inside, so Watkins can't just follow us in here?"

Dr. T'Pel spoke up, "Yes; this should work as a stop," as she picked up a sloping piece of rock and jammed it under the door. "We should be safe here." She turned to Waverly and asked, "What were you doing in the passage, Peter? You know you are not supposed to be in here. It is potentially dangerous!" Her expression reflected fleeting alarm before settling back to neutral.

Waverly looked chagrinned and said, "Well, I couldn't sleep last night; I kept thinking there had to be something I could do to help our situation. Then I remembered the passage, and I somehow had a feeling it might come in handy, considering our predicament. Ansell…uh, that is, Ansell Phan" he added, remembering that the _Enterprise _crew didn't know him, "he was up because he couldn't sleep, either; I ran into him on the way, and he was wanting to help in some way, too. So I got him to go into the passage with me. We took shovels and also flashlights, in case the fluorescing compound didn't give enough light. The passage is really narrow in places and not completely structurally sound, and there were a few places we had to clear of rubble, but it's now possible to walk all the way through."

T'Pel tightened her mouth into a thin line and she mentally shook her head at herself. This was the result of allowing herself to sleep last night, for giving in to the unexpected sheer exhaustion she felt in the wake of Dr. Watkins' totally inexplicable behavior; she had not heard a thing, had slept through it all. But then her face softened slightly as she looked at the student and said, "I suppose I cannot be angry with you, but I do wish you had told one of us what you were doing."

The young man shrugged and said, "I was afraid that if I did that, you'd stop me. But Ansell insisted that we tell Lanie, since she's his girlfriend," he added for the benefit of the _Enterprise _people. He continued, "We told her what we were going to do and said that if we weren't back in two hours she should get you guys involved. Fortunately, we were back before then. If we didn't end up needing to use the passage, I just wasn't going to mention anything about this." Marinescu was now smiling broadly at him, and even Smythe seemed reluctantly impressed.

The captain grinned at the young man and said, "Ah, a rule-breaker after my own heart! Thanks for what you did, Mr. Waverly; it's good to know that we'll be able to get through to the other side of the hills without being out in the open." He looked around at the group and said, "And now that we have some breathing room from the crazy man outside, I'm going to call the ship."

Jim flipped open his communicator and called Scotty. The chief engineer came on the line, and he said without preamble, "Captain, Ah heard about the shuttle," his voice sad. He loved the _Enterprise_, his grand lady, above all things, but he had a soft spot for the wee shuttles, too. He asked, "Crew going to be alright?"

The captain replied, "Ensign Yildirim just got bruised at bit; Crewman Ferreira has a broken leg, but I'm sure he'll be fine once Bones gets a hold of him." He paused briefly and went on, "I don't suppose those Gray's particles are showing any sign of letting up?"

Scotty answered, "No, sir; when they do, ye'll be the first to know."

"Thanks, man. Listen, we need to get off this planet, and I don't think HD10180 is going to cooperate. What can be done to boost the shields on the shuttle, so they'll work despite the Gray's particles?"

"Hmmm, well now, that's easier said than done, sir," the chief engineer said. "To boost the shields on the shuttle enough to counteract the Gray's particles, we'll have to put in a much larger power supply. But that's goin' to increase the weight significantly; the extra weight wouldn't matter in space, 'a course, but down on the planet? That's something else again. Ye automatically have to devote a certain percentage of the increased power to achievin' lift and maintainin' forward momentum when ye're in gravity, so I'm not sure ye'll get all that much increase in the shields on the planet, where ye'll need 'em. Don't want the shuttle to drop like a stone or have trouble getting' back off the ground. But if we ripped out all the excess weight, seats and so forth, that should help, and there are probably some other things we can do, too."

Jim smiled inwardly, knowing that Scotty's engineering brain was already at work on a solution. The Scotsman continued, "And since the shields are designed to repel energy weapons with a higher velocity than what yon crazy man is shootin' at ye, we'll need to recalibrate 'em to repel solid projectiles goin' much slower. For that, we may be able to tap into the function that repels biological entities big enough to do some damage, which works in a different way than the shieldin' for weapons. For the weapons shieldin', I think the assumption was that any civilization we made contact with would be past usin' things like guns, which is a massive oversight on the part of Starfleet that obviously needs correctin'! But anyway, it will take some experimentin' but we can manage it, given time."

Jim said, "Do it. Let me know when you've got fixes in place. But I want you to be absolutely sure they're going to work. I don't want us to send another shuttle just to have it shot down or fall because of its own weight."

"Understood, sir. We'll get goin' on it right away."

"Good. Kirk out."

The captain had barely shut his communicator when it chimed and he answered, "Kirk here."

Uhura's voice came to them in the semi-darkness, "Captain, we've completed our scan. There are still no other humanoid life signs other than those from your party."

Jim frowned, stymied for a moment, but then he said, "Lieutenant, hold on a moment. We're in a passage that goes through the hillside, and I want to try an experiment down here." He turned to Giotto and said, "Mr. Giotto, walk down the passage to the bottom of that dip, about 10 yards on from here." The security chief did as requested.

Uhura said excitedly, "Captain, Mr. Giotto's signal just winked out! It now looks like there are only nine of you."

Kirk said, "Keep watching the life signs monitor, Lieutenant." Then to the security chief, he said, "Mr. Giotto, come back this way." Giotto did so and Uhura exclaimed, "Captain, his signal just came back on!"

The captain nodded and replied, "There's something in the soil here that blocks life signs, apparently, if there's enough of it over you. Close to the door, the signal still comes through, but not where Mr. Giotto was standing a moment ago." He considered briefly and said, "Well, this is good news and bad news. It's good because it explains how he's able to avoid our scans—which means we're not really fighting a zombie—but it's bad because this means it will be harder to track him. Lieutenant, I want this area scanned for other humanoid life signs around the clock. Alert us when another signal pops up."

Before she could reply, he went on, "And contact Haight-Ashbury and let them know we'll have to postpone our visit there. Just tell them we're detained on a rescue mission, and if they ask for more information, say the details are confidential pending completion of the operation. Oh, and tell them we'll make it up to them by scheduling a longer visit next time; that should be easy since we were only going to be there for two days this time. I hate to postpone like this, but I don't think we're going to get off this planet in time to be able to make it to Haight-Ashbury and then get to Andoria when we're supposed to. And if we have to piss off someone, I _don't_ want it to be the Andorians!"

He paused long enough for her to say, "Aye, aye sir," and then he said, "Lieutenant, we're going to stay here a bit and then we'll be going on through the hillside. I'll let you know when we start so you can be prepared for all of our signals to disappear."

"Aye, sir. We'll be ready."

Jim said, "Good. Kirk out," and he flipped the communicator closed.

After hearing the captain ask that the area continue to be scanned for other humanoid life signs, Dr. T'Pel and Smythe had begun a whispered conversation. After Kirk rang off and focused on the people around him, he noticed that she was looking slightly puzzled, and Smythe was frowning at him. After a moment, the man voiced his concern, "Captain Kirk, there aren't any caverns in those hills to the north that I'm aware of." T'Pel chimed in, "That is my understanding as well, Captain."

Kirk digested this and finally shrugged and said, "Well, he must have found one. I prefer to believe that than that he's dead and is somehow able to shoot at us anyway." Dr. T'Pel and Smythe shared a skeptical glance but neither said anything else.

The captain left this possible mystery, since there was no way for them to resolve it now, and changed tack. He said, "We need to get to the shuttle and see about helping Ensign Yildirim with first aid for Crewman Ferreira. There are some medical supplies in the emergency stores, as well as phasers, emergency rations, water, blankets, that sort of thing. But first I want to take some time while we're as safe as we can be to try to figure out what kind of a gun we're dealing with and also lay some plans." He turned to the Vulcan woman and asked, "Dr. T'Pel, you helped Dr. Watkins pick up the spilled ammunition. Could you tell what caliber bullets were on those shells?"

She shook her head and replied, "I know very little about firearms, Captain, and so would probably not be able to answer in any event, but in this case, there were no bullets visible. I referred to them as shells because that is what he called them, but in truth they were paper cylinders tied with string on one end with the paper folded over on itself on the other."

Jim sucked in a breath as the answer to the mystery of the phantom ammunition came to him. He said, "That explains why Watkins can still be shooting at us when he was seemingly out of ammunition. What you just described is a Minié ball cartridge, and a person can make them right in the field, if they have lead, fire, and a mold for the bullets, which he apparently does. They were invented about 1850—I forget the exact year—by a French army officer named Claude-Etienne Minié, and they're called balls, but they're really conical bullets made of soft lead, with a hollow cavity at the base."

Waverly's eye had gone wide and he exclaimed, "That's why we smelled smoke last night! It wasn't a wild fire from one of those distant lightening strikes, like we thought then. It was Dr. Watkins melting lead for more ammunition!" Kirk nodded and said, "Yep, seems likely."

Curious now, Dr. T'Pel asked, "How do the cartridges work? Does one simply put the whole thing in the gun?"

The captain answered, "No; the cylinder contains the bullet and a pre-measured powder charge. You tear or bite off the folded end of the paper, pour the charge down the barrel, squeeze the bullet down the paper tube into the barrel, and use a ramrod to seat it so that the hollow base is filled with power. When the charge is ignited, usually by a percussion cap, the powder-filled base expands to fit against the spiral rifling grooves on the inside of the barrel; the rifling causes the bullet to spin, which stabilizes its trajectory and greatly improves the accuracy of the shot. The key thing about the expanding base is that the ball can be smaller than the barrel, which makes loading much quicker than with a smooth bore musket where the bullet is pretty much the same diameter as the barrel and so has to be forced down it."

The Vulcan woman commented, "It all sounds rather primitive, but they apparently serve their intended purpose quite well. I have seen firsthand the damage one of these Minié balls can cause; it is not something I wish to see again."

Kirk said, "I'm with you there! The soft lead bullets break up when they hit something, and they cause horrendous injuries. They were responsible for a huge percentage of the casualties in the American Civil War. Dr. Morgan is lucky to still be alive after being hit in the side."

Dr. Marinescu said, "I'm an M.D. as well as having a doctorate in xenoarchaeology; Dr. T'Pel assisted me in tended his injury, and it was quite severe, one of the worst I've ever seen. He was hit in the back, and the hole there wasn't very large, but the one in the front where the bullet went out was about the size of my fist …"

She stopped and shuddered before going on, "Somehow, it missed his heart, but he was bleeding profusely, and while I am a doctor, I'm not a surgeon, so there was a limited amount I could do for him. I think we would have lost him except that we have a first-aid gel called HemoStop that boosts coagulation and also encourages capillaries to close up. It was developed for field situations like this, where people can be seriously injured miles or even planets away from a hospital. Fortunately, it's otherwise chemically inert, so it can be used internally. I always have a good supply with me when we go into the field, so even though Dr. Watkins dumped out what remained in the camp, we still had what I'd taken with us. We packed the wound with the gel, but that only helped to a certain degree, due to the severity of the injury, and we kept having to repack it when the bleeding got bad again. That's what I ran off to do when you beamed down."

The assistant director paused, and even her training and experience as a doctor could not stop her look of distress. After a moment, she continued, "We're almost out of the gel. If you hadn't come along when you did…" she trailed off and paled, not liking where that thought lead her.

Kirk said, "Dr. Marinescu, I'm sure he's going to be alright; he's in good hands now. Dr. McCoy, our CMO, is a crack surgeon, truly one of the best in the business." She looked down as she nodded and sniffed a couple of times; doctor though she was, she was also the man's colleague and friend. When she looked up, she gave Jim a wan smile. He smiled reassuringly at her in return.

Giotto had been looking puzzled ever since Jim's realization that Watkins was using Minié balls and he now asked, "How was he able to shoot down the shuttle with soft lead bullets? I wouldn't have thought something like that could pierce the hull."

The captain answered, "Well, you're right about that, so I think he just got lucky there. The shuttles have some air intake ports for operating in planetary atmospheres, and from the damage to the propulsion and steering systems, I'd say he somehow managed to put those two shots right into one of them. Normally, of course, the ports would be protected by the shields, although from what Scotty said, it's doubtful they would have kept out bullets in any case. But without shields, _anything_ could get into the ports if a shuttle is operating where there are Gray's particles. This is another thing that Scotty will want Starfleet to correct on the shuttles!"

The _Enterprise_ people nodded in agreement. After a moment's reflection—so many unexpected dangers!—the captain then asked, "Can anyone describe the rifle in detail?"

Smythe and Marinescu just shrugged, but Waverly spoke up, "I've been around guns my entire life, since my father and older sister are both hunters, but I've never seen one like this before. I wanted to ask Dr. Watkins about it, but he's often not very approachable. Anyway, it has an extremely long barrel, I'd say at least four and a half feet, and the stock is heavily ornamented. It looks like an antique."

The captain nodded and said, "He's got a longrifle then, sometimes called a Kentucky rifle or a Kentucky longrifle. It was a very common gun in America in the 18th and 19th centuries. There are other rifles that will take Minié balls, but with that barrel length, it can't be anything else."

The others were all staring at him in surprise; here was yet another odd thing no one would have expected him to know. Kirk answered the unspoken question saying, "I had an adolescent fascination with old military technology; I can also bore everyone to tears going on about stuff like trebuchets, early ironclad ships, and what all's involved in making a Japanese katana. But anyway, the good news about the longrifle is that it's a single shot muzzle-loader, and it takes 20 seconds or so to reload. The bad news is that, unlike a smooth bore musket that's only accurate to 75 yards or so, a longrifle can be deadly accurate at a range of up to 500 yards in practiced hands, with 200-300 yards being more common for a novice. Fortunately for us, Watkins doesn't seem to be a very good shot."

Smythe said, "Well, if he's a bad shot and it takes 20 seconds for him to reload, wouldn't it be possible to just rush him the next time he fires on us?"

Spock answered, "Possible, but risky, even with covering phaser fire. He most likely will only fire on us when he has good tree cover, where he can see us, but we cannot see him. In addition, his accuracy would presumably improve as we approached his position, and if we are running toward him in the open..." he stopped and gave a half-shrug while he compressed his mouth. The first officer then frowned slightly, looked down at Smythe, and commented, "Although if you are offering to take point, Dr. Smythe…"

The director interrupted with a yelp, "Me?! No, this is a matter for you military people! I was just bringing it up as an option."

The half-Vulcan's gaze hardly altered but his face still somehow turned very cold, and though he did not speak, his expression was very eloquently saying, "Just as I thought." Smythe looked affronted and discomfited simultaneously, but as Spock was being stonily silent, there was nothing the man could actually say. Even he recognized how ridiculous he would seem if he got in a public huff over a _look_ he was getting from a _Vulcan_ off all people.

Jim watched the entire exchange with an inner grin. He thought, _That's it, Spock! Stick it to him in a way he can't object to!_ But as satisfying as that was, they had to be getting on with their plans. He looked around at the assembled company and asked, "Anyone else have some scheme in mind or anything else to add on the ammunition or the gun?" There was a universal shaking of heads and a chorus of "No, sir"s, so he went on, "OK, now that we know what we're up against, we need to focus on what to do now. We need to get to the shuttle, and I want to find a more defensible place for us to hole up for the night."

Smythe whined, "Why can't we just stay in here tonight? It's close to the artifacts, and it would be possible to guard them from here."

Waverly spoke up, "With all due respect Dr. Smythe, I don't think that's a good idea. The terrain between here and the place where the shuttle crashed is very rugged. It would be really hard to carry an injured man on a stretcher for a lot of it, and damned near impossible at some points, and it would be really hard on him, too. Plus, this passage wouldn't be manageable, either, and I think we'd be very foolish to take him around through the gap in the hills and over open ground to the entrance just behind us there. We wouldn't be able to move very fast, and it might not matter that Dr. Watkins doesn't seem to have the best aim." Smythe looked at him menacingly, but the young man stood his ground and gazed back at the director steadily, refusing to be cowed.

T'Pel looked at Waverly with just a hint of admiration showing in her carefully-controlled expression before coming to his defense saying, "Peter is right. That is not a good option." This drew Smythe's glare over to her, as she intended. She ignored him and turned toward Jim. "Captain," she said, "There is a shallow cave with a large opening fairly close to where the shuttle crashed, if it indeed crashed where I think it did. In addition, the opening is overhung with vines, so it would be difficult for Dr. Watkins to shoot at us inside. The terrain between the two locations is steep but manageable. The cave is too shallow to be of real use as an animal's den, so we should be able to stay there without having to evict one of the local predators."

Kirk replied, "That's good information, Dr. T'Pel; thank you. Will we pass it on the way to the shuttle?" She nodded and said, "I believe so." He went on, "Good; we'll take just a moment to check it out then before going on to the shuttle."

Smythe said then, "I don't want to go with you. I want to stay and try to guard the artifacts," shooting a resentful glance at Kirk, Spock, and Dr. Marinescu. It was because of them that the crates with their precious cargo were still on the planet and not safely on the ship.

The captain clenched his jaws together as he shook his head. He said, "No, we can't do that. We don't have enough people to mount an effective night watch at two locations. And since I don't share your opinion that the artifacts are more important than our lives, wherever we end up staying will be the best one we can find to keep _us_ safe, not the artifacts."

Giotto spoke up, "Captain, I think it's actually a good idea to leave someone here while we go to the shuttle, not so much for the artifacts as for the other things here. Watkins didn't manage to destroy everything, and there are some things that might be useful to us, like that tent. We could leave one or two people here with Dr. Smythe while the rest of us go on to the shuttle. Then, we could leave Crewman Ferreira and Ensign Yildirim at the cave, along with two others, say Dr. Marinescu and Crewman Boreyev, while the rest of us come back here to collect the people who stayed behind. We'd all head back to the cave at that point, and we can help tote whatever useful stuff they found back there."

After a moment of thought, Jim agreed, and Giotto went on, "Ensign Yeboah, you stay here with Dr. Smythe. Keep a watchful eye out but see what you can do about gathering anything potential useful, electronics especially."

The young woman said, "Aye, aye sir." Smythe was looking at her as if he thought she would be easy to boss around, but she smiled inwardly, knowing that if so, he was sadly mistaken. She had grown up with a domineering father, but she had pushed right back, and she had learned early exactly how to handle such men. She grinned at him in a toothy, slightly menacing way, letting him know that he could not intimidate her.

Smythe was momentarily taken aback by the ensign's expression, but then he shifted his focus to Giotto and sniffed, "It sounds like you don't think he's going to bother the camp, considering your instructions to your subordinate."

Giotto looked at him, suppressing his expression of distaste, and replied, "I don't. I think it more likely that he'll head over to where the shuttle crashed, since he would expect us to go there. Either that, or he'll be waiting where this passage comes out on the other side of the hill, ready to pick us off."

Waverly spoke up, "Well, we don't actually have to go all the way through to the old road that skirts the hills around the camp. There's another exit that will put us out on the side of the hill on a game trail. It actually has good tree cover and it would be a much better way to get to the crash site. It's not easy going, but we'd be sitting ducks on the road, so I think the game trail is the way we should go. Of course, Dr. Watkins might know about the two exits, but we have to pick one, so it might as well be the best one for our purposes."

The captain considered for just a moment and then said, "Agreed; we'll use the exit onto the game trail. OK, to recap the plan, we'll leave Dr. Smythe and Ensign Yeboah here while the rest of us go by the game trail to the crash site, checking out the cave on the way. We'll do what we can for Crewman Ferreira and then we'll leave him, Ensign Yildirim, Dr. Marinescu and Crewman Boreyev at the cave, assuming it's suitable for our purposes. Then we'll head back here to collect Dr. Smythe and Ensign Yeboah and take them and anything useful that they found to the cave where we'll spend the night."

Dr. Smythe repeated, "I don't want to go with you. I'll stay here tonight by myself if I have to. Those artifacts haven't been touched yet, but it seems to me that it's only a matter of time before Watkins does something to them, and I intend to see that they aren't harmed."

A slight frown appeared between Spock's eyebrows, and his look became very thoughtful. Before he could say anything though, the captain said, "Dr. Smythe, I really can't let you do that. This is a rescue operation, and I'm now responsible for your safety, so you've got to come with us. If I let you to stay here, alone, and something happened to you, I'd be the person who had to answer for it to Starfleet and Cornell." Smythe opened his mouth to make another appeal but Kirk pre-empted him by saying, "And no, I won't assign any of my crew to stay the night here with you. I'm not going to split my watch force like that."

Smythe seemed about to object but then suddenly, all the fight went out of him and he sighed and said, "Alright, Captain; you win. I'll go with you after you get back. But I want it noted that I'm doing so under protest. If anything happens to those artifacts…"

Kirk clenched his jaws together in irritation and said shortly, "Duly noted." Except that it would be his hide if anything happened to the man, he would be only too happy to leave Smythe damned near anywhere, as long as it was far away from where he was. The captain turned to look at Spock and noticed his expression. He asked, "Something bothering you, Mr. Spock?"

The first officer hesitated just a moment and then replied, "Yes, Captain. It seems odd to me that the artifacts were undamaged when almost everything else was destroyed. I cannot help thinking there must be a reason for that."

Smythe snapped, "No, there doesn't! The man went mad! He wasn't reasoning about anything! It must have been just chance that he didn't harm the artifacts. What more 'reason' do you want?"

Spock looked singularly unconvinced and said, "I do not accept that as an explanation." He turned to Jim. "Captain, when we return from the crash site, I recommend that we inspect those crates very carefully. I think it quite likely that all is not as it appears to be. Mr. Giotto is trained to look for the smallest signs of tampering. He and I could examine the crates, and if there is any evidence of it, we should open them."

The captain said, "Good idea, Mr. Spock. Agreed." Giotto nodded his own agreement. Smythe's began a stuttering protest but the captain cut him off. "Dr. Smythe, we won't open them if they really haven't been disturbed. But if there's even the slightest bit of evidence that they have been, we really need to check what's inside of them. Surely you can see the sense in doing that!"

The director answered, "Well, I'll grant you that, I suppose, but when it's clear that the crates are completely intact, with no tampering in evidence, then I'll expect a full apology from you for doubting my word that they have not been touched!"

Jim suppressed the urge to roll his eyes and said through almost-but-not-quite gritted teeth, "Fine." He thought _And if _you're_ wrong and _Spock's _right, I expect an apology from _you_ for being such an asshole, _but by dint of shear self-control, he kept this thought to himself.

The captain was about to tell the company that they should head out when his communicator chirped. When he answered, "Kirk here," Bones's voice came over the line saying, "Captain, I thought you'd like to know that Dr. Morgan made it through surgery, and I expect him to recover." Dr. Marinescu said in a relieved tone, "Oh, thank God! And thank you, Dr. McCoy," loudly enough for him to hear her. Bones grunted, "You're welcome." He went on, "The front of five of his ribs on the left side were in pieces, but I was able to put them back together, more or less, with bioscaffolding. We'll give him the standard bone-rebuilding treatment, so any bits that are missing now should re-grow. He also lost about a third of his left lung. There's an experimental treatment that stimulates cell growth in soft tissue like this. If he consents, we can try it on him and see how it does for his lung. If it works, he should make a complete recovery, pretty much as if he'd never been injured, except for a couple of scars."

Jim said, "Thanks, Bones, that's really good news." He could hear some noise in the background and he asked, "Are you on the bridge, by any chance?"

McCoy answered, "Yeah, I came up here to tell them about Dr. Morgan—news about him spread through the ship like wild fire—and to see if anyone has any insight into how you keep getting into these situations." If they had been in the same room, Jim would have stuck his tongue out at the doctor, but they weren't, so the captain had to content himself with a "Ha, ha; very funny."

Jim could hear Uhura's voice in the background and then she came on the line, saying, "Captain, I talked to Mr. Moon River; he's the designated city coordinator of Woodstock—or as he said, the 'des-coord'—and the official contact for our visit." Kirk asked, "Was he upset?" She replied, "Well, I don't _think_ so, but from what he said, I suppose I'm not completely sure. When I told him we'd have to postpone, after he expressed concern and condolences for the people who needed rescuing, he said, and I quote, 'No biggie, mon. Catch you on the flipside.' I understand 'No biggie, mon' but the rest?"

Jim chuckled a little at that and said, "That translates to 'See you later.'" Seeing puzzled glances around him, he said to Uhura and the people with him, "It's an old expression from the mid-20th century and refers to 45 rpm vinyl records, which had a different song on each side. One side, the 'A' side, had the primary song, the one the producers expected to be popular. The other side, the 'B' side, was called the flipside, because you had to flip the record over to play it, and so it was played 'later.'"

Uhura's slightly skeptical voice came back, "OK, sir, if you say so," and Dr. Marinescu asked, "How do you even know that?" Jim smiled a little and said, "I once had a girlfriend who knew all kinds of stuff about that time period. That's one of the bits that stuck in my brain." He then changed tack and said, "Lieutenant, hold on a moment."

The captain looked around at the assembled company and said, "Dr. McCoy reminded me that trouble seems to follow me around, so I'm saying to all of you that if something happens to me, Mr. Spock is in command, and you will follow his orders. And if something happens to him, too, then Mr. Giotto is in charge, and you'll do what he says if you want to get out of here alive. Is that understood?" For the _Enterprise_ crew, this was standard procedure, so everyone knew he was really talking to the expedition people. Marinescu, T'Pel, and Waverly all agreed readily while Smythe eventually was able to grind out a reluctant "Yes" between clenched teeth.

Kirk then outlined the plan to Uhura so that the crew on the _Enterprise_ would know what they intended to do. He turned to Smythe and Ensign Yeboah and said, "You two go on back out this door. We'll wait till you're in the clear. It Watkins is still in the area, I expect that he'll start shooting pretty much as soon as you go out, and then we can shoot back. Oh, and when we leave, we won't block the door, so you'll be able to get back in here if you need to."

Waverly removed the wedge from under the door to open it, and the director and the ensign walked cautiously out into the open. The others waiting a few minutes, and when nothing happened, the captain thought it was safe for them to go on through the hill. He said, "OK, Lieutenant, the rest of us are going to start down the passage now. I suspect our signals will disappear, but they should pop back up when we get to the exit. I'll contact you when we get there." She replied, "Understood, Captain," and he said, "Kirk out."

The captain turned to the student and said, "OK Mr. Waverly; lead the way." The young man nodded and started down the passage with T'Pel and Marinescu behind him, followed by the _Enterprise_ people, with Giotto bringing up the rear.

As Waverly had warned them, the passage was quite narrow in places, and the floor was uneven. Fortunately, they were able to see fairly well, as the carbon dioxide from their breathing had filtered down the passage to activate the fluorescing compound in the soil. At some spots the walls were crumbling, and they could see the places where the students had had to shovel fallen debris to the side to clear the way the night before. It was somewhat slow going, but they made it without incident to the spot where a side passage branched steeply off of the main one. Waverly turned up this way, using his hands to help with the climb, and they all followed him. The path eventually leveled off and widened out to another heavily reinforced alcove, a bit smaller than the one at the entrance but still large enough for them all grouped together. Another of the odd-looking slab doors was before them.

The party stopped for everyone to regain their breath after the climb. After a moment, the captain flipped open his communicator and called the _Enterprise_ to alert Uhura that they now at the exit. As expected, all of their life sign signals had reappeared. He then said, "Lieutenant, we're about to head out now. We're taking a game trail to the crash site. I'll contact you again when we get there. We need to be as quiet on the way as we can." She replied, "Aye, aye sir," and he ended the call.

Kirk looked around and repeated, "We need to be as quiet as we can be on the way to the shuttle. That means no talking unless absolutely necessary, plus everyone should move as silently as they can. I don't want to give Watkins any help finding us, if we can possibly help it. Of course, he might be out there waiting for us, but somehow I don't think so." He thought a moment and then said, "Mr. Giotto and Crewman Boreyev will go out first to check for danger. But then I want you, Mr. Waverly, to lead the way, as you seem to be quite familiar with the terrain. Mr. Giotto and Crewman Boreyev will fall in behind you, then Dr. Marinescu and Dr. T'Pel. Mr. Spock will follow them, then me, and Crewman Paekotehi will bring up the rear." Dr. T'Pel looked for a moment like she would object to Waverly being in the lead, but she kept silent, deciding to trust the captain's judgment on this point.

Jim took a deep breath and said, "OK, Mr. Waverly, open the door…"

No one shot at them as they came out, and it seemed that their luck was holding for the moment. When they were all regrouped on the hillside, Jim took a moment to look around and orient himself. Below them, to the south, he could see the wide road built by the Tridecagonians skirting the base of the apparent hill they were standing on, but he now realized the "hill" was actually the summit of a mountain, topping a series of enormous terraces that descended like gigantic steps down the mountainside. He hadn't realized this when they'd materialized on that same road, as he'd focused on the people waiting for them and had never turned around to see what was behind them to the south. And after that, they were within the ring of hills around the camp and hadn't been able to see anything outside of the enclosing walls.

A broad green valley flooded with sunshine opened up before them to the south, with a bright ribbon of water curling through the bottom, and he could see what appeared to be equally vast terraces cut into the mountain on the opposite side, too. The captain wondered briefly that a civilization that could build such enormous earth works could vanish so utterly. If—no _when_—they made it out of this mess, he would have to find out more about this mysterious race. But for now, they needed to be getting on with it, and as Waverly looked back at him expectantly, he flicked his hand forward to signal that they should head out.

The game trail was only wide enough for them to go single file, though as Waverly had said, it provided good tree cover. The going was rough, with many stretches that were quite steep, but they didn't see or hear any sign of Dr. Watkins. When they got to the cave Dr. T'Pel had told them about, they took a few moments to inspect it. As they hoped, it was not already occupied by one of the local predators. The cave was indeed shallow, but it had a fairly level floor and was large enough to provide shelter for their entire party. The hanging vines that screened it were starting to lose their leaves, but it was still a place where they would be able to mount an effective night watch. As a bonus, there was even a small clear stream nearby.

While he looked it over, the captain was thinking they would be hard pressed to find a better spot to spend the night. Spock had been inspecting the cave as well and he now moved close to Jim and whispered, "Captain, I concur with Dr. T'Pel that this is a suitable location for our purpose." Jim nodded as he leaned close to his first officer and whispered back, "Yeah, I think so, too." He looked around at the group and noticed that exhaustion and stress were starting to take their toll. He then said in a slightly louder whisper, "OK folks, let's rest here for just a few more minutes before we get going again," and everyone gratefully sat down.

All too soon, it was time to push on, but the terrain here was not quite as steep and so it was easier going. Before long, they could see a gap in the tree cover up ahead of them, and then the shuttle was in view, surrounded by torn up brush and turf and shattered trees. It had plowed into the ground nose first as it crashed, but amazingly, it had come to rest so that it was sitting almost level, with the tail end pointed slightly downward.

Ensign Yildirim had been keeping watch for them, and she now opened the door and jumped out to meet them. She exclaimed, "Captain! Boy, am I glad to see you guys! Crewman Ferreira is really in a bad way; he's got a compound fracture of his right leg, a few inches above the knee. I've done what I could; Dr. M'Benga told me to keep him still and put some moistened sterile gauze over the wound, which I did. He also told me to give him some of the pain medication from the emergency supplies, but it's not helping him much." She stopped then, and Jim could see that she was sporting a large bruise over one cheekbone and she was very pale and was shaking slightly. He patted her on the shoulder and said, "You've done a good job, Ensign. You go rest; we'll take over from here." She nodded and said, "Thank you, sir," as she moved off and sat down with her back against a tree.

Giotto and his men spread out around the shuttle, on the lookout for any sign of danger. They were in as good a position as possible, since this ridge was the highest in the vicinity, and except for the spot where the shuttle had crashed, there was excellent tree cover.

The captain turned to the assistant director and said, "Dr. Marinescu, I hate to ask you to deal with another horrible injury, but since you're the best qualified person here…" he trailed off and looked at her hopefully.

She nodded and said, "Of course I'll help, Captain. It's not the first compound fracture I've had to deal with in the field." Her face took on a resolute look and she said, "First, let me see what all's in the emergency supplies; I want to know what I have to work with. Then I can get busy. "

Dr. Marinescu followed the captain into the shuttle. Crewman Ferreira was lying on his back in the aisle close to the tail end; with the slight downward slope of the shuttle, his head was lower than his feet, which was helping to ward off shock. Ensign Yildirim had made him as comfortable as possible, but he was in terrible pain and was moaning softly.

The captain pointed out where the emergency supplies were stored, and the doctor took the time to pull out a pair of sterile gloves. She then went down the aisle and stopped briefly to introduce herself to her patient and examine his injury before going back up to the emergency supplies. She rummaged around for a few moments, extracting a folding stretcher, a splint, a bottle of sterilizing solution that was safe for internal use to clean the wound, more sterile gloves, a bottle of water, scissors, gauze and bandages. As she completed her inspection, she frowned slightly and asked, "Captain, is this everything? I was hoping for something to use as anesthesia, but there doesn't appear to be anything like that."

He answered, "No, there's just the pain medication that Ensign Yildirim mentioned. Is that a problem?"

She hesitated a moment and replied, "Well, we need to realign that bone and get the broken ends back under the skin, but it's going to be incredibly painful for him to have that done, even though it's a nice clean break without jagged edges. I hate to do it because he's already suffering, but if we don't, he runs a much greater risk of infection, and there can be further damage to the broken ends of the bone as well. But before we can do that, we need move him onto the stretcher and take him outside, since there's just no room to work in here. And that's going to hurt him, too."

Spock had come as far as the door and he now spoke up, "Captain, Dr. Marinescu, I believe I can help. I have some training in Vulcan healing techniques. I can go into his mind and intercept the pain signals. As I am familiar with how to apply this technique to humans, it should be fairly effective." What he did not say was that the way he would do this was by rerouting those signals into his own body; it would be painful but bearable. With another Vulcan, he would have been able to simply put a block in place on the affected nerves, but this was not possible with a human. He knew this from growing up with a human mother who could be somewhat accident prone, and his father had made sure he knew how to help her when it was needed.

Dr. Marinescu frowned slightly and asked, "Will you be reading his mind, invading his privacy? What if he doesn't want it done?" The first officer answered, "No; it will not be like that. I will not sense any of his thoughts or feelings, nor will he sense any of mine. I will explain all of this to him and ask his consent. And he may of course refuse if he wishes." The doctor still looked a bit doubtful, not knowing how it worked exactly, but Jim said, "OK, do it, Mr. Spock," and she reluctantly agreed.

After Dr. Marinescu told Ferreira what they would need to do, the half-Vulcan moved over to the injured man and explained how he could help. The crewman readily agreed, and Spock stepped past him to sit behind his head. As the doctor and the captain readied the stretcher, the first officer initiated a light meld and located the nerve pathways he needed to interrupt. Ferreira's expression began to relax immediately as his pain level decreased. Jim looked up in time to see Spock's eyes widen and his face pale as he sucked in a sharp breath, and the captain now wondered just what this Vulcan healing technique involved, but he didn't want to interrupt his friend to ask. He then had to look down as it was time to help Dr. Marinescu roll Ferreira onto the stretcher and so he missed Spock's grimace as the half-Vulcan briefly bowed his head while tightly closing his eyes. When Jim looked up again, the first officer's expression was still tight but was once again more under control.

Having found out that her patient's first name was Jonathan, Marinescu said, "Good job, Jonathan; you're doing great. Now we just need to get you outside." As the captain got up to go get additional help with carrying the stretcher, Waverly stuck his head in the door to see if there was anything he could do. He was quickly pressed into service to spread a blanket from the emergency stores on the ground—not the most sterile thing in the world, but it would have to be cleaner than the disturbed ground of the hillside—and to get another person to help carry the stretcher.

In just a couple of moments, the student was back with Dr. T'Pel; as a Vulcan woman, she was nearly as strong as a human male. They pulled the stretcher to the entrance of the shuttle where there was room for four people to stand around it and then they lifted the injured man out and carried him over to the blanket where they gently set him down, positioning him so that his head was again down-slope from his feet. Spock followed behind them with his hand never leaving Ferreira's face. He struggled to control his expression, especially every time he put weight on his right leg, but he got through it by reminding himself that it was only borrowed pain, that his own thigh bone was actually fine.

There was a little breathing room as Dr. Marinescu went back to get all the supplies she would need and to prepare, but then it was time to begin. Spock braced himself as the doctor went to work. She had asked for Dr. T'Pel's help again, and between them, the two women soon had the wound cleaned and the bone ends realigned and back under the skin. Marinescu used the gauze and bandages to secure Ferreira's leg to the splint, and then it was over. She gave her patient another dose of the pain medication, and Spock ended the meld. There would be some lingering pain suppression effect from the meld that would help the injured man be more comfortable until the medication kicked in.

Spock sat where he was for a few seconds, feeling dazed. He had known that helping Ferreira would be painful, but it had been worse—actually much worse—than he had anticipated and he was fighting severe nausea and dizziness. As Jim looked on in some alarm, the half-Vulcan stood up unsteadily, wobbled a few yards away and then abruptly sat down on the short grass-like turf, obviously in distress. The captain was glancing back and forth between his friend and Crewman Ferreira, his expression conflicted, as he felt a strong obligation to be with both of these men. Waverly, noticing his dilemma, said kindly, "Captain, we've got this. You should see to Mr. Spock." Kirk shot him a grateful look as he nodded and went after his first officer.

Jim dropped down beside his friend, who was now sitting with his knees drawn up and his head between them, breathing raggedly. Unable to keep his concern out of his voice, the captain cried, "Spock! What can I do? How can I help?"

Without looking up, the half-Vulcan croaked, "Water, please…" and his friend jumped up and ran off to get a bottle. Spock looked up as the captain returned, thanking him as he handed it over. Kirk saw then that his first officer's hands were shaking and that there was a slight sheen of perspiration on his forehead. He sat down close to Spock but didn't touch him as the man slowly took tiny sips from the bottle. After a few minutes of this, the half-Vulcan turned to look at his captain and then gave a distinct nod. Jim's heart did a little flip-flop as he realized that his friend was asking to be touched, right in front of God and everybody, despite the fact that "everybody" included another Vulcan. But if Spock needed this and didn't care who saw them, well then, who was he to object? The captain obligingly scooted closer to his first officer and laid a hand gently on his back. Spock inhaled deeply and closed his eyes, leaning into the warm contact.

They sat like this until the half-Vulcan was more relaxed and his breathing evened out; he turned to his friend and said, "Thank you, Jim." The captain took this as a signal that Spock was now recovered enough to no longer need the physical contact, so he removed his hand but remained sitting very close. The captain then turned to look at his first officer and said in a slightly accusatory tone, "Umm, Spock? Why didn't you tell me that this 'Vulcan healing technique' would involve your actually feeling that pain, not just somehow blocking it?"

The half-Vulcan gazed steadily back at him and replied, "I did not tell you because I thought it quite likely that you would object,"—here Jim interjected, "Damned straight I would have!"—and Spock continued, "And I did not want to argue with you about it, as we are doing now. For me, although it was…uncomfortable while it was happening, I knew it would be temporary. Whereas for Crewman Ferreira, it would have been excruciating and may even have jeopardized his chances for recovery." He knew what pain and trauma could do, having once seen a classmate at the Academy who was injured in a training exercise in a remote area almost die of shock, even though the injury itself had not been nearly as severe as the one Ferreira had sustained.

As Jim digested this, one side of the first officer's mouth tipped up slightly and he went on, "And really, Captain, you should not be angry with me, as this is something that I knew in childhood but which I recently relearned from you." At the captain's now questioning look, Spock said, "Yes, it was your example that caused me to remember that it is often better to ask forgiveness than permission." Jim was now gaping at him but then the captain grinned broadly and replied, "Well, I guess I can't complain about that _too_ much, although I think maybe I should be more careful about what I'm teaching you. I don't want your dad to skin me alive for getting you into bad habits." Spock acquiesced by inclining his head.

Her assistance no longer needed with the injure crewman, Dr. T'Pel had been going in and out of the shuttle, helping with the items they were going to take with them. She happened to be outside to hear when Spock asked for water with a "please" and then replied "thank you" when it was delivered, as the two men's voices were clearly audible to her sensitive Vulcan ears. She also observed when the human captain placed his hand on the man's back, apparently at his request (she was almost certain—98.6% certain, in fact—that this was the meaning behind Spock's nod). Her mouth dropped open by 2.2 millimeters and her eyes widened by 1.75, which for her was the equivalent of an open-mouthed gaping stare, but she soon managed to regain control of her expression as she turned to go back into the shuttle once more.

The Vulcan woman felt a stab of jealousy that these two people of different races and cultures could be so free and open with each other, but even as she pushed this aside as illogical, she felt a shiver go through her that she could perhaps have the same thing, if only she were brave enough to take the chance. Typically, she did not have a clue as to how Peter Waverly felt about her, but she could no longer deny what she felt herself. True, she had been his instructor, so before the present time any relationship between them other than student and professor would have been highly inappropriate. But now, he was almost finished with school, the only thing left to do after the summer's fieldwork was to defend his doctoral dissertation, and she would not be sitting on the examining jury for that. So perhaps when they got back to Earth she would take the chance…

Spock now having largely recovered, Jim got up to help select the emergency supplies, first telling his friend to stay where he was and just rest. As there was limited space in the shuttle, the captain told Dr. T'Pel that she could take a break. He had noticed her glancing at them in between trips into the shuttle, and he had a feeling she wanted to talk to Spock; this would give her the opportunity to do that in relative privacy.

She gratefully agreed to the suggested break and after a moment, went over to where Spock was sitting. She asked, "Commander, may I speak with you?" He looked up at her and then gestured for her to sit beside him. She folded herself gracefully to the ground and waited for a moment before she asked, "Did you know that assisting the injured crewman as you did would be so painful?"

The first officer replied, "No, I did not. I knew it would be unpleasant, but I have never broken a bone and did not know that helping him would be as…difficult as it turned out to be. But, even if I had had full knowledge beforehand, I would still have done it. The shock of such an injury can be life-threatening for a human, while for me, though it was…uncomfortable, it was soon over."

She was silent for another moment and then said, "You appear to be quite at ease with humans."

He answered simply, "Yes."

The Vulcan woman then turned to look at him and said, "You are very…close to your captain," her tone making it clear that this was not a question.

The first officer looked back at her and replied simply, "Yes." There was no point in denying it, nor did he want to. He had known that she had seen him with the captain, but he had simply not been able to bring himself to care that he was not acting like a normal Vulcan in front of her.

After another short silence, she asked, "It is not unpleasant or disorienting to be touched?"

Spock replied without hesitation, "No; as long as it is the touch of a close friend, it is actually comforting, calming. I am half human"—she nodded to indicate that she knew this—"so this is perhaps not unexpected. Of course, being touched by a stranger or someone who is merely an acquaintance would be a different matter, but that is not the case here."

T'Pel absorbed this information and then asked, "Was it difficult for you to learn to say 'please' and 'thank you' when you started living on Earth, attending the Academy?"

The half-Vulcan opened his mouth to answer but paused briefly in thought before replying, "First, I must tell you that I initially resisted even attempting to learn; I saw no reason to alter my behavior, despite ample evidence that this would in fact be a beneficial course of action. It was only after I had spent several years on Earth that I realized this resistance was an error, and I resolved to correct it. I will not deny that learning how to be polite was…initially difficult, but in time it became less…awkward, and I now say 'please' and 'thank you' reflexively, as if I had been raised to do it. And perhaps in a way I was. As I believe you know, my mother was human,"—she nodded again—"and I therefore heard 'please' and 'thank you' from earliest childhood on. She never required me to say them, as I was raised to be a Vulcan, nor did she require them of my father. But nor did he require her to stop, and so she said them my entire life."

Spock had to pause momentarily to regain emotional control, as he resisted the sadness that could so easily overtake him, remembering these things. But he then took a deep breath and went on, "When I first arrived on Earth, I continued to act as I had on Vulcan, and I could not help but observe the negative reactions some of this behavior garnered me. Omitting an expected 'please' or 'thank you' were among the noticeable triggers for these negative results. I further observed the positive reactions that followed my classmates' use of those same terms. However, I still resisted using them myself, continuing to believe, as I had on Vulcan, that saying such unnecessary things was illogical. Then, I gradually came to realize that far from being unnecessary, these expressions were, in fact, very important social lubricants, some of the grease that keeps the machinery of society running smoothly, if you will." She raised an eyebrow at his use of metaphor but did not comment.

He continued, "When I finally understood this, I realized that it was actually logical for me to say such things. I was, after all, on Earth, and as the saying goes, 'When in Rome, do as the Romans,' which is an expression I am certain you have heard." She nodded and he said, "Once I recognized that fact, it was only logical to change my behavior accordingly. Doing so was not easy, even for me, and I was fortunate to have my mother's example, for which I am deeply appreciative, although it took some time for me to be ready to follow it." He paused briefly and then said, "Given my personal experience, I realize it may take a serious effort for you to learn this behavior, but if you do so, you will be amply rewarded."

She thought this over for a moment and then asked, "Is it rewarding, having very close relationships with humans?"

Both sides of Spock's mouth rose perceptibly in an almost-smile and he looked directly into her eyes and answered, "More than you can possible imagine." She could not completely suppress the apple-green flush that rose in her face. Had he been fully human, Spock would have said, "Go for it, girl! He wants you, too," but then, if he were fully human, it was very unlikely that they would have been having this conversation at all.

T'Pel hesitated a bit and then said, "Mr. Spock, I was surprised when you asked for water. As a Vulcan, you do not require nearly as much water as a human would."

The first officer tipped his head to one side and replied, "My physiology is somewhat different, given my mixed heritage. I have both Vulcan and human temperature regulating mechanisms, including some number of sweat glands. I therefore require more water than would a full Vulcan, who would not perspire as I do, although I need less than a full human who lacks the internal temperature control ability of a Vulcan. In addition, I thought the water would help me manage the nausea I was experiencing as a result of helping Crewman Ferreira."

He could have stopped there, but he realized that she was in effect asking for his guidance in interacting with humans, so he decided full disclosure was best. He continued, "However, neither of those things was the primary reason that I requested water. My captain was quite distressed on my behalf, and I knew it was important for him to be able to do something to assist me." She could not stop her look of surprise at that and he elaborated, "This is another thing I have learnt about humans: many of them, both males and females, have a strong tendency toward nurturing behavior and such people have a true need to help others in times of crisis, to be useful in some way, especially for close friends and family."

She nodded slowly, thinking how strange but how wonderful this behavior was, to be kind to the people close to one by allowing them to help, not only for one's own sake but for theirs as well. Vulcans, of course, assisted their fellows in times of need, but they would only ask for help when they themselves needed it; they would never ask for assistance primarily (or entirely) for the benefit of another. Still, the way Spock had explained it, she could see the logic behind such actions on the part of humans, given the strong bonds that often formed between members of this intensely social species.

They were both quiet for a moment and then Spock asked, "Dr. T'Pel, may I ask you a personal question?"

She looked slightly apprehensive but she still answered, "Yes."

The first officer asked, "Why are you here, among humans, instead of on New Vulcan, helping to rebuild the Vulcan race?"

She said in a slightly sharp tone, "I could ask you the same thing!" and he had to acquiesce with a tilt of his head. But then she almost-sighed and answered, "I suppose the answer is that I have never felt completely at home among our people. Except with my immediate family, who mostly accepted me as I am, I have always felt like an outsider; I am too questioning of many of our ways and our strict rules of behavior to ever really fit in." She paused and looked down before continuing in a slightly thick voice, "And if I were on New Vulcan, I would be alone. My betrothed and my entire family died when Vulcan did…" she stopped, unable to continue.

Spock said very softly, "I grieve with thee," and she nodded. Then she surprised both of them by managing to choke out, "Thank you, Mr. Spock," trying out that social lubricant for the first time. Then she remembered what this man had lost, and she said, "And I grieve with thee." He murmured a quiet "Thank you" in return.

The Vulcan woman remained silent for some time, so the first officer said, "You know that you would not be alone for long on New Vulcan. The elders would choose a new partner for you."

T'Pel exhaled sharply—the Vulcan equivalent of a small snort—and replied, "I am aware of that, and that is one of the reasons I am not there. As we became older, I realized that my betrothed was not someone that I would have chosen for myself, although our differences were not great enough to justify dissolving our bond. I do not want to be in that position again. This time, I _will_ choose for myself." She stopped again and Spock looked back at her in complete understanding. Here was another one much like himself. Such attitudes were a rarity on Vulcan; no wonder she had felt like an outsider.

She then looked at him with a hint of expectation in her expression, so he said, "In my case, the woman to whom I had been betrothed survived the destruction of Vulcan, as she was off-planet at the time." Although he had no interest in renewing their bond, he had felt an obligation to know her fate and so had made the effort to find out; he had felt unexpectedly relieved to learn that she still lived. He went on, "However, we were never truly compatible, and as we grew older, our differences became severe. Therefore, our bond was dissolved prior to my leaving Vulcan for the Academy. As is the case with you, were I on New Vulcan, I am certain a new mate would be chosen for me by the elders, but I do not desire that any more than do you."

Dr. T'Pel nodded as she digested this information. After a moment, she changed the direction of the conversation somewhat, saying, "I have been on Earth for five years now, and while I do not yet have close friends, as you do, I do have people in my life that I would characterize as close acquaintances, and perhaps they will even become friends in time. And I must admit that I have come to appreciate human society, chaotic and confusing though it may be."

She paused briefly before continuing, "Some humans, of course, are narrow-minded, bigoted xenophobes, but many of them are incredibly accepting of diversity, openly embracing differences that would cause severe cognitive dissonance in Vulcans. They are also always exploring, looking for new ways and new things. And there is something about them that simply refuses to give up even when it would be logical to do so, something that makes them keep trying though the situation appears hopeless, and I have observed that their efforts are often successful even in the worst of circumstances. It is quite…refreshing to be among people with that attitude." She sincerely hoped their own predicament would somehow avoid turning into one of those hopeless-seeming situations, but if it did become so, well, she was with humans and a half-Vulcan who thought like them in some ways. If anyone could get them off this planet, it would be they…

T'Pel then deliberately pushed such thoughts aside, and her eyes took on a far-away look as she said, "I once had a human teacher, a great philosopher of the Eastern tradition, who told me that he believed my katra, my soul, had inhabited a human body during my last lifetime and that this was the reason for my affinity with this race. I do not know if this is true, but it seems as least possible. In any event, I cannot disprove it." Spock nodded to indicate that he understood but he said nothing.

The captain had been going in and out of the shuttle, adding to the growing pile of supplies that they would take with them. He now emerged with two of the individual packs that held some field rations, a water bottle with a purification filter, matches, a flashlight, a light-weight reflective blanket, a whistle, basic first-aid supplies, and various other odds and ends that were anticipated to be of use in an emergency; the packs had a long strap and could be worn slung across the body, leaving both hands free. Jim looked around and spotted his first officer where he had left him. As be began heading in their direction, T'Pel stood up and said, "Mr. Spock, thank you for a most enlightening conversation, but I see that we are getting closer to being ready to depart. I should see if there is anything more I can do to assist." She moved off, nodding to the captain as they passed each other.

Jim looked after her curiously before handing one of the emergency packs to Spock. He then asked, "What were y'all talking about?"

The half-Vulcan replied, "Living among humans."

The captain smiled in response and said, "She has a thing for Peter Waverly, doesn't she?"

One side of Spock's mouth tipped up slightly as he answered, "She did not volunteer that information, nor did I ask, but I suspect that you are correct. However, I _am_ certain that he 'has a thing' for her, as you would say."

Jim's smile turned into a broad grin as he said, "Yeah, I kinda thought so when he refused to leave. Well, maybe this life-or-death situation will end up bringing them together," and Spock inclined his head in agreement. Clueless as they both were about their own situation, they were both astute enough to realize where T'Pel and Waverly seemed to be heading. (Oh, the irony!)

The captain then changed the subject, saying, "I think we're about ready to head out, Spock. Are you feeling up to walking now?"

The first officer replied, "Yes, Captain; anytime," as he stood up. Jim turned to head back toward the shuttle but Spock briefly put a hand on his arm to stop him. He then said, "Jim, thank you very much for you assistance earlier."

Jim smiled as he looked back at his friend and replied, "Hey, you're welcome; glad I could help." He paused to look around, and seeing that there was no one else within earshot, he continued, "And thank you, Spock, for what you did back in the passage. My stepfather used to lock me in a windowless basement when I was little, and being in the dark in that stuffy passage was so much like those awful experiences that I was really in trouble there for a minute. I was wondering, though, how you knew I needed help. Did you hear my heart rate shoot up or something?"

At the captain's question, the half-Vulcan looked slightly startled. How _had_ he known, exactly? He had not thought about it before—he had just simply _known_ somehow. After a moment's hesitation, he responded, "I am uncertain, Captain. Mr. Giotto and Ensign Yeboah were breathing quite loudly, so I do not believe I heard your heart beat elevate…" he trailed off.

The captain speculated, "Well, maybe you noticed it subconsciously or something?"

Spock replied uncertainly, "Perhaps." They then let the matter drop as there was no way at this stage to determine how he had known about Jim's sudden fear response.

The two men walked over to join the others who were now ready to leave. Since they were going back over ground they had covered before, Giotto took the lead, followed by Ensign Yildirim; then Crewman Ferreira on his stretcher carried by Spock, Jim, T'Pel and Waverly; then Dr. Marinescu and Crewman Boreyev , with Crewman Paekotehi bringing up the rear. All those who were not carrying the stretcher had their hands full of the various supplies they were taking with them to the cave.

They kept a close watch for any danger, but they made it safely to the cave. They stopped briefly to settle Ferreira as comfortably as possible before heading out again, leaving Dr. Marinescu, Ensign Yildirim, and Crewman Boreyev with him.

The party was about half-way back to the camp when there was a crashing sound off to their left, to the south; the trees and undergrowth were very dense on that side of the trail, and they were not able to tell what was heading so rapidly in their direction. The trees here were huge, but unlike such a forest on Earth, where there would be relatively little undergrowth, on Luna-gee, there were many plants that throve in such low-light conditions, and a large variety of bushes and vines grew here in great abundance.

Giotto was again in the lead and he held up his hand to call a halt. They stood listening intently, and Jim turned to face the direction of the sound, trying to peer through the dense undergrowth. In addition to the noise of some large animal moving at speed through the forest, they now heard the sound of labored breathing. Then the bushes beside the trail were flattened as one of the local herbivores, a substantial animal about the size and mass of a full grown bull elk, suddenly materialized out of the forest. It ran straight into the captain, hitting him squarely in the chest, and they both went down in a tangle of limbs.

A strong musky animal smell, like a combination of wet dog and sour milk, assailed Kirk's nostrils as the animal thrashed about trying to untangle itself, and he felt the air being forced out of his lungs as its body temporarily pinned him to the ground. But then it managed to scramble back to its feet, and it squealed in terror as it dashed around Giotto up the trail. A dark blur cut through the trees in hot pursuit, intent on not losing its dinner. Spock moved quickly to help his friend to his feet and check him for any injury. The captain would have some bruises, and he had had the breath knocked out of him, but he otherwise unhurt. None-the-less, Spock decided it was time for a short rest. They all sat more or less where they were, grateful for the respite.

The sun had been shining brightly when they left the crash site, but a dark bank of clouds had rolled in, signaling the approach of autumn. Combined with the dense tree cover, it had grown quite dark where they were, almost like dusk, despite the fact that it was only mid-afternoon on the planet. Besides the mysterious Tridecagonians, Luna-gee was famous for one other thing, and that was its incredible variety of bioluminescent insects, many of which became active at dusk. Some of these now came out of their day-time hiding places and began fluttering about on glowing wings. Spock's attention was caught by a particularly striking pair, very reminiscent of earthly butterflies, that were seemingly dancing around each other, flashing complex patterns of colors, and he got up to follow them up the slope toward the crest of the ridge they were traversing.

To the south, the terrain dropped gradually down toward the old Tridecagonian road, with the game trail winding in a meandering path across the slope. But just past the crest of the ridge, to the north, the land fell away abruptly in a steep escarpment, almost as if an enormous mouth had bitten off chunks of it. The geology of the area was complex, as it was one of those odd places where planetary tectonics had smushed together different plates composed of very disparate types of rock. Much of the surrounding area was composed of hard granite, but the particular bit that made up the ridge they were now on was soft easily-fractured shale. It was heavily weathered due to the storms that rolled in from the north, and it was prone to collapse without warning. The _Enterprise _people had no way of knowing this, however, as the northern side of the terraced mountain across the valley was granite and showed none of the extreme erosion that affected the northern side of the ridge.

Jim rested for awhile but then he got up and followed Spock and the dancing insects up the slope. They had all stopped just shy of the ridge crest, and the captain stepped around the first officer to stand on his right, which put him closest to the top of the crest. Spock briefly looked at his friend with a slight almost-smile on his face, but then he turned back toward the insects, his attention completely focused on their mesmerizing ballet.

As the captain watched, he became aware of growing feeling of danger, and the hairs on the back of his neck rose as prickles of apprehension shot through him. Then, he found himself reaching out and grasping Spock's arm, abruptly pulling the man along with him as he moved to his right. He himself was as surprised by this as was his first officer, for he had once again moved without conscious thought, like the time at the museum on Arcadia when he had first spotted the amber flowers, his action again seemingly prompted by some part of himself outside of his conscious mind.

Any objection that Spock might have voiced died on his lips as a bullet zipped past him to smash into the ground, just grazing his left cheek on its way. Had he remained standing where he was, the bullet would have hit him squarely in the back of his neck, just at the point where his spinal column disappeared into his skull, and it would almost certainly have killed him instantly.

The captain's own momentum carried him to the very top of the ridge, and he had just released Spock's arm when he was suddenly falling down the other side as the ground beneath his feet crumbled away. He somehow managed to grab hold of some of the vines that trailed over the side, but they began tearing away, unable to support his weight. He heard Spock scream "_Jim_!" above him as he dangled precariously over a hundred-foot drop. Just as the last of the vine roots pulled away from the ground, he felt an arm like iron wrap around his torso and he was pulled tight up against his first officer's right side.

With his left hand, Spock had seized onto a branch of a tree that grew up from the remains of a terrace far below them, but though it was tall, it was relatively spindly, very different from the sturdy trees in the forest above, and the branch soon broke under their combined weight. They were in free fall for a split second before Spock managed to grasp another branch. But after a few seconds, it broke, too, and then they were once again hurtling downward. They both grabbed desperately at whatever vegetation was within reach—vines, this time—and they managed to stop again momentarily, but then the sequence of break-fall-grab-stop repeated itself in a frightening cycle.

This side of the mountain had originally been cut into the same, tall broad terraces that still graced the other side, but erosion had worn these down to relatively shallow ledges interspersed with precipitous drops of at least 100 feet. Spock tried repeatedly to land them on one of these ledges, but the soft shale continually broke away beneath them and over and over again they had to rely on the vegetation within reach to keep themselves from falling all the way down the mountain. Some of the plants they were inadvertently mangling on their way down released strangely-pleasant odors when they broke, like some kind of exotic perfume, making a strange accompaniment to the terror of the descent. At one point, a flock of very colorful bird-like animals flushed noisily from nests dug into the face of the cliff, and they were surrounded by darting, swooping forms that scolded them angrily until the animals decided they had been chased off sufficiently, and then the flock turned as one and flew back up the escarpment.

It seemed to Jim that they would go on falling and stopping over and over again forever, in an endless series of repetitions, but finally, they were at the bottom, 1500 feet from where they started. They stood for a moment with Spock still holding Jim against his right side and then he released his captain. They looked at each other in mutual amazement that they were still alive— seriously scratched and bruised, but alive and still in one piece.

Jim leaned back against the rocks behind them and exclaimed, "Spock, you crazy bastard!" thinking of the risk Spock had run by coming after him. He shook his head and went on, "You saved my life…" before he trailed off, very shaken. His friend looked solemnly back at him and said, "As you saved mine," and he reached up to touch the streak of blood on his own cheek. He continued, "Had you not pulled me out of the way…" before trailing off himself.

Jim's eyes went wide as he realized that this injury was not a just bad scratch sustained in their near-fall down the mountain but rather was where a bullet had grazed Spock, and all of the color left his face as he realized how close his friend had come to being killed. His eyes glittered suddenly with unshed tears, and he gasped out, "Oh, gods, Spock!" as he threw his arms around his first officer and pulled him close.

This was far more physical contact than was usual for them, and Spock stood rigid in Jim's embrace for a brief moment before he relaxed. When he thought later about what happened next, he decided that his human side had simply shoved his Vulcan reserve out of the way and had done the right thing. He found his arms going around Jim's lower back, and then he was hugging his captain in return, both of them needing to feel the warm, living solidity of the other.

Jim blew out a shaky breath and dropped his head to Spock's shoulder as he felt his friend's arms go round him. The hug had been pure impulse; he hadn't thought about it at all, hadn't asked permission, hadn't thought whether Spock would even let him do it, hadn't thought what the man might or might not do in response. He'd simply reacted to the certain knowledge that his friend had almost, just almost, died but that he hadn't. As his first officer's hands flattened out against his back, he felt an odd tightness building in his chest. The half-Vulcan then laid his head on his captain's shoulder, and Jim's heart lurched sideways. The captain found himself fighting an urge to lay a hand on the back of that dark head while they stood together with their arms wrapped around each other, just breathing.

Sometimes in crisis situations, a random thought will float up to the top of one's mind, and that's what happened now to Jim. He noted how well they fit together—at 6'2", Spock was just an inch taller than he—before he mentally pulled himself up short, wondering where that had come from. If—no, _when_—they made it out of this situation alive, he would have to think about what this all meant.

After a few moments, they pulled apart and Jim said, "Thanks, Spock; I needed that." The half-Vulcan looked back at him with an unreadable expression and inclined his head, whether in acknowledgment or agreement with his sentiment (or both), Jim didn't know, but he decided it didn't matter—he had hugged Spock impulsively, and his friend hadn't pushed him away but instead had responded in kind. Despite the danger they were still in, he felt a warm glow filling him at that thought.

The captain then reluctantly put that aside to focus on their current situation. He took a few deep breaths and then pulled out his communicator to contact Giotto...

The security chief had been watching the captain and the first officer observing the insects, and he saw Kirk suddenly move and pull Spock along with him and then to his horror, he watched the man disappear from view. A second later the first officer deliberately followed the captain over the edge, and this broke Giotto out of his stunned paralysis. He jumped up and spun toward the pop sound that had come from above and behind them. While the captain and the first officer were hurtling down the mountainside, Giotto and the security crew returned fire in the direction of the noise. They then heard a thrashing, thumping sound as Watkins ran away from them along the broad branches of the trees that surrounded them. Like the forest that once stretched from the Atlantic coast to the Mississippi River in North America, where it was said that a squirrel could go that whole distance without ever setting foot on the ground, the branches of the trees here overlapped each other. However, the trees on Luna-gee were much larger than those on Earth and the huge branches would easily support a running man, not just a squirrel.

The security chief tore back down the game trail chasing the sound of Watkins' retreat, but he soon stopped and cursed loudly as it became clear that the man had eluded them, and then he cursed himself for not having heard Watkins approach. But after a moment, he realized that this was pointless, as the mad man would at that point have been moving as stealthily as possible, and even Spock had not heard him (although what had caused the captain to act as he did was a mystery). In any case, it was too late to catch Watkins now, and ruthlessly blaming himself would only distract him from the business of keeping what remained of their party alive.

Hoping to find out what had happened to his commanding officers, Giotto turned around and charged up the slope toward the ridge crest, flopping onto his belly and crawling the last few feet to hopefully avoid falling down the other side. He peered cautiously over the edge but was unable to see the two men. He was just pulling out his communicator to try to contact them when it chirped and he felt himself go weak with relief when he heard the captain's voice coming through. "Captain!" he shouted, "Are you alright?"

Kirk answered, "Yeah, we're alive, no broken bones even. Is everybody OK up there?"

Giotto replied, "Yes, sir. We shot back at Watkins, but I don't think we hit him. Now he's gotten away," his voice full of self-recrimination.

The captain said, "Hey, he's a slippery one. We'll just have to keep watching for him, and eventually, we'll get him." The security chief said a soft, "Thank you, sir," knowing that the captain, far from blaming him, was trying to make him feel better about missing the guy. Kirk went on, "Listen, I don't think there's any way we can get back up this mountain from where we are now. You should go on to the camp and follow the plan we worked out. You're in charge now, Mr. Giotto."

There was a small pause as the first officer said something in the background and then the captain was back saying, "Mr. Spock reminds you to go over those crates with a fine-toothed comb." The security chief said, "Of course, sir," thinking that Spock had probably said something rather different from this. The captain continued, "I'll contact the ship and let them know what happened. And if there's somewhere along here that will offer a more manageable way back up, they can help us find it. We'll rejoin you as soon as we can, but it will almost certainly be sometime tomorrow before we're able to do that." Giotto answered, "Understood, sir," and the captain finished with, "Kirk out."

Jim then called the ship to fill them in on the unhappy developments on the ground. While he was talking to Uhura, it suddenly occurred to him that the scanner should have been able to see another human life sign when Watkins was sneaking up on them in the trees, as there was no way that he could have fired on them as he did from some life-sign-blocking hole in the ground. He interrupted the communications officer's mention of what appeared to be a large drop in the height of the mountainous terrain a number of miles to the east, where they might climb back up, as he asked, "Lieutenant, is the scanner working OK? It should have picked up Watkins when he was stalking us in those trees."

She answered, "That's true, sir! I hadn't thought of that." She paused to examine the equipment and look at the data it was spewing out. She went on in a puzzled voice, "I don't understand what's going on here. The scanner is picking up all of you, as well as the people at the cave and the camp, so I don't think there's anything wrong with it. But it's not picking up anyone else, and it should be if he's still within about 50 miles of your current position, unless he got inside one of those caverns that blocks life signs. That might be where he is now, but it can't be where he was when he shot at you."

Jim looked at Spock and they frowned at each other in puzzlement. They were both too shaken to think of a solution to this mystery, so the captain said, "OK, keep the scans going anyway. There's something weird going on here, but for the life of me, I can't think what it might be right now. Anyway, we're going to start heading east. I think we'll be out of daylight before we reach that spot where the mountains aren't so high, so we'll have to be on the lookout for a place to hole up for the night. Contact us right away if there's any sign of our mystery man." Uhura said, "Aye, aye sir," and Kirk ended the call.

A creek-bed with a clear chattering stream ran east-west at the bottom of the escarpment they had just come down. The water was low, as the winter rains had yet to begin, and the creek-bed offered them a relatively manageable path in the direction they needed to go. None-the-less, the captain's shoulders suddenly slumped as he contemplated the long march ahead of them. He was already exhausted from the day and the descent, and now they had to just keep going. He wasn't completely successful in keeping the discouragement he felt out of his face as turned to his friend and gestured to the east, saying wearily, "OK, Spock, let's hit the road."

The first officer looked around them with an exaggeratedly puzzled expression—for a Vulcan anyway, meaning it would have been a normal puzzled look on a human—and said, "But Jim, we will have to build one before we can hit it," but he soon replaced this look with a slight upturn of one side of his mouth as he looked sideways at the captain. Jim stared at him for a split-second before uttering a short bark of laughter, as Spock intended, instantly feeling much better. He gave his first a fond sock on the arm, and they started out. Things looked bad, but they could have been infinitely worse. The dark bank of clouds was moving on and the sun was struggling back out, which meant they probably wouldn't be slogging along in the rain later in the day. They both had somehow managed to not lose their emergency packs, so they would have food and water, at least. And they were alive…and most importantly, they were together. Somehow, they would make it back to the rest of their party, and then somehow they would figure a way to get off of this planet.

* * *

**Author's note:** Well, here's another cliff-hanger for you, but I took pity on everyone and didn't make it the literal cliff-hanger that I could have. And I apologize that it took me longer to get this chapter out than I originally thought, but, well, life intervened. I think I'll stop saying how long I expect it to be before the next chapter comes out, because things almost always take longer than I think they possibly could (you'd think I'd know that after 60+ years). As y'all probably realize by now, I'm not really writing a story. I'm writing a novel, and a fairly long one at that. We're still some number of chapters away from their first kiss—again, I don't know how many 'cuz it's mostly just in my head at this point—but trust me, they _will_ get there!

When this part of the story first started swirling around in my head—some danger that they would encounter where Jim and Spock could save each other's lives—I asked my husband if there was any kind of a rifle for which a person could make their own ammunition, fully expecting the answer to be "No." But when he said that you could make Minié balls for a Kentucky longrifle, that part of this story arc started to firm up. Various articles about these guns that I found online listed the effective range from only about 200 yards to over 500, and I decided to go with the upper limit rather than the lower for this story.

Along those lines, I revised the previous chapter a bit in the part where Watkins shoots down the shuttle, to account for the 20-second reload time; the way I had written it originally had the shuttle moving too fast after it was initially hit for what happened next to be at all credible. For those of you who read the last chapter before that revision, here's the relevant paragraphs:

"Jim and Spock spotted the shuttle as they turned to look in that direction, and Kirk answered, "Very good. We'll await your arrival." He was about to sign off and cut the connection when they heard a "pop" sound. A split second later, the shuttle lurched a bit and slowed drastically, not so much advancing now as practically hovering. Over the open com link, the pilot could be heard saying to the co-pilot, "What was _that_? What happened?!"

The two officers swiveled toward the sound and were visually combing the hills when, about twenty seconds later, a puff of smoke appeared near the crest of the hill to the northeast, followed by a second pop. The shuttle stopped its forward motion entirely and hung motionless in the air for a brief moment, and then suddenly it was falling from the sky."

There really are chemicals that will fluoresce in the presence of carbon dioxide, but they don't occur naturally in soil, being complicated things that have to be put together from various chemicals and they have to include a membrane to be able to work. So I stretched the truth here, but at least this was sort-of based on reality.

As far as I know there isn't anything like HemoStop, but I think this would be a really useful product. Maybe someday there really will be something like that.

It's probably not cannon, but I wanted Spock to be able to sweat, so I gave him both human and Vulcan methods of controlling body temperature. I also don't think there's anything like what I had him do for Ferreira in the cannon, but this is my version of the Star Trek universe, so I can set it up the way I want.

And finally, I've been wanting to use the word "smush" in some composition ever since I was in the third grade in the early 1960s and heard my teacher scold a classmate for using it because "it's not a real word," when it's obviously such a great one to describe two things that have been forced together. This same woman also said that "squish" wasn't a "real word" either, and she was wrong on both counts. I just looked these up in the OED (Oxford English Dictionary), and "smush" has been around since 1629 as an adjective, although the meaning of that is now uncertain, but it's also been in use as a verb since 1825, meaning to mash or crush. And "squish" has been around since 1647 as a verb meaning to squeeze or to squash. So take that, Mrs. Whatever-your-name-was!

That's all for now. Thanks for reading!


End file.
